As I Have Loved You
by Eady of Old
Summary: "No man can regret loving, as I have loved you." He'd spoken the words before he truly understood both the profoundness of her love and what it might mean if he ever lost it. If he ever lost her. Sequel to "No Man Can Regret Loving"
1. Chapter 1

**As I Have Loved You**

 **Summary:** "No man can regret loving, as I have loved you." He'd spoken the words before he truly understood both the profoundness of her love and what it might mean if he ever lost it. If he ever lost her. Sequel to "No Man Can Regret Loving"

 **Rating:** M for sexual situations

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own Downton Abbey or these characters.

 **A/N: This is the sequel to my story "No Man Can Regret Loving." You really need to read it to understand this. Go ahead, I'll wait... :) Okay, if you're ready to press on, this story picks up where the last one left off, roughly around the end of S2 and beginning of S3. Unlike No Man, this story will be rated M and contain sexual situations (starting next chapter). But this is not a fluff-filled sequel. There will be angst, which is no surprise for anyone familiar with my writing. I plan to update once a week or so.**

 **As always, I greatly appreciate reviews.**

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 _"No man can regret loving, as I have loved you."_

 _He'd spoken the words before he knew the true meaning of regret, before he truly understood both the profoundness of her love and what it might mean if he ever lost it. If he ever lost_ her _._

 _She glowed like an angel, the softness of her skin ephemeral in the darkness. He had seen her this way once before, on the precipice of his own death, and in that interminable moment, she'd held out her hand to him - an invitation home._

 _But now her fingers were not outstretched, nor did her gaze remain on him. Rather, she looked down at a bundle in her arms. She held a child - their child.  
_

* * *

Bates woke with a start. The dream stayed in his memory long after most others might have faded, perhaps because he'd had it before: every night in the three day span since his marriage to Anna. Each morning he was abruptly pulled from a dream in which he saw her, an otherworldly being, holding a baby.

The dream terrified him in a way he could not describe. Thankfully, Anna was not there to see his initial reactions each morning. He was alone in his room at Downton.

But the apparition which plagued him in his nighttime hours was a reminder that he was not a madman. He had lived this life before. Somehow, something had transported him back in time to the months before he first came to Downton and met Anna. The part of him which ruminated on that detail suggested that it had everything to do with the last hours of that life, the manner in which he'd departed from the world - or had attempted to, at least.

Anna died trying to give birth to their first and only child, a circumstance which stayed at the edge of his consciousness like a ghostly figure at the corner of one's vision. Some days, he could move past it, finding joy and happiness where he could. But other days, it still stayed with him, bathing him in guilt and remorse which could never truly be eased, only ignored.

At the time, it had been much worse. Her death pulled him under like the rip current of the strongest tide. There was no meaning in anything without Anna, without the child she'd struggled so valiantly to bring into the world. And to think that he had been the one responsible for her death-

Bates shook his head and sat up from the thin single bed. Anna would chastise him if she knew he still tortured himself with such thoughts. But the pasttime was a difficult one to set aside. And now that he'd found happiness again, it seemed to penetrate even his dreams. Perhaps it was not only that Anna's memory plagued his sleeping hours in the form of a ghostly figure. Perhaps it was a reminder of a past he could not repeat, not at any cost.

But the Anna of this time loved him as fiercely as the woman he'd known before. When he could reconcile the two women in his mind, they became two sides to the same coin - his soulmate, if such a concept existed.

Getting dressed and heading down to breakfast, he allowed himself a smile as he thought about seeing her there, waiting for him.

* * *

Bates had not the money to afford a true honeymoon, but Anna did not seem to mind. Instead, they had been spending the days off allotted to them after their wedding fixing up the cottage Lord Grantham was able to procure. Bates was unsure whether he was relieved or disappointed that it was not the same cottage as before. This one was of a similar age and design, but the layout was different. Every room was on the first floor with no stairs to contend with, and Bates found that he much preferred not having to make such a trek every day. His knee gave him less trouble than it once had, but stairs had never been enjoyable.

Taking to married life with enthusiasm and youthful exuberance, Anna worked circles around him in an effort to make their new space habitable. She was ready for them to at least move into their bedroom, but Bates hesitated.

Once they moved in, it would be expected that they consummate this new marriage. Unlike before, Anna had not managed for them to have a room to themselves at the Abbey, so they had not yet enjoyed a true wedding night. Thankfully, time was not of the essence because he was not being investigated by the police for murder, but it did make Anna rather purposeful in her desire to fix their situation.

"I don't know if we're even truly married yet," she fretted.

"Of course we are," Bates responded. But then, in his mind, he'd been married to her since nearly the first day they'd met.

She wanted to say more, he could tell, but she pressed her lips together and ducked her head shyly.

While Anna was clearly looking forward to it, the thought of intimacy with his new bride frightened Bates. His recurring dream did not help matters. Even though he knew the accepted methods in such matters - and indeed had employed them to great effect during his marriage to Vera - he still questioned the wisdom of making love with his wife. What would he do if Anna became with child by accident?

He could not face the possibility of her dying again. The very suggestion tore at his insides and left him dizzy with terror every time it entered his mind. Her life was far more precious than any passing desire they might feel to be together.

But Anna obviously had other notions.

"I was thinking we could collect our things tomorrow," she said as they walked back up to the house in the evening, before darkness had fallen. They had spent most of the daylight hours putting the cottage to rights. "It shouldn't be more than a couple of trips, but we could ask to borrow the car for an hour to make it go faster. I doubt his Lordship would mind."

"But the cottage isn't ready," Bates said nervously.

"It nearly is," she responded. "We've finished painting and cleaning the bedroom. The kitchen still needs some work but we have our meals at the house anyway."

"But the parlor..." he began, reaching for another excuse.

Anna glanced over at him as they walked, and in the moonlight he could make out her confused expression mix with amusement. "Only needs new curtains to be hung and our possessions set out. But we cannot do that until we've brought them down from the house."

Her questioning smile reminded him that he would only be delaying the inevitable. They were married now and would live together as husband and wife eventually. Whether it happened the next day or in ten days would not be of much import.

Finding no reasonable means to refuse her, Bates acquiesced and the next day saw them moving into the mostly completed cottage. Anna appeared nearly giddy with the change of their location, and he reminded himself that their home was the first space which was entirely hers. Before the cottage, she had lived at Downton, sharing a room with another maid. Before that she'd worked as a tweenie in the north, which he imagined gave her even less personal space, and as a girl she'd likely slept in a room with her sister. Moving to their home was an act of independence for her, one he could not cheapen.

They spent the day finishing up in the parlor, hanging curtains and arranging books and dishes. Bates hung up his clothing in the wardrobe in their bedroom, taking care to make note of extra items he would need to buy from the village. Some fresh starch, perhaps, and extra hangers. Beside his shirts and coats hung Anna's uniforms, their drab wardrobe intermingling more than they themselves had done since being wed. But as he glanced back at the bed in the middle of their room, he realized with a feeling of dread that state would not be for long.

They ate a bit of dinner Mrs. Patmore had prepared and sent home with them before taking tea in the parlor. Bates pulled out a book to read as Anna worked on some mending, but he could not concentrate. She glanced at him often, he could see out of the periphery of his vision, her body straight and obviously alert with excitement.

There could be no more putting it off, putting her off. They had been married for four days and still had ventured no further than the passionate kiss she'd pulled him into that afternoon as she put the finishing touches on the new curtains. And Bates could not deny that he desired his wife. She was beautiful and perfect in every way, as daft as that sounded even in the privacy of his own mind. He already knew how she would feel beneath his fingers, her soft flesh filling his hands and mouth as his ministrations elicited sweetly unintelligible murmurs of pleasure. Just indulging in such memories made him heady with anticipation of what they might share that evening, but he also quaked with fear.

The very act of that type of intimacy was designed for the conception of children, and that was precisely what he did not want.

When the time came, he was more nervous than she, and Anna could tell.

"I'm the one who should be blushing, Mister Bates," she told him as they walked down the hallway to their bedroom. She'd taken his hand to lead him, and he followed slowly, as though marching to his doom.

But he could not countenance ruining this experience for her with his own worries.

"You have no reason to blush," he informed her. "You're an incredibly beautiful and sensual woman, Anna."

They stood facing each other, the door to their room closed behind them. The inevitability of what was about to happen left him fairly trembling, but he was determined to give Anna as much chance at a real life as he could manage. If he took care and kept control, she need not give up anything more than he had already asked of her.

"I feel the same about you," she said softly, looking up to meet his eyes as she stepped closer to him.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I don't usually like to post on Fridays but wanted to get everyone an update before the weekend. We're now solidly in M-rated territory, folks, so govern yourselves accordingly. My thanks to the usual suspect for always bolstering my confidence in my writing and being an excellent sounding board. :)**

 **I honestly find M-rated material difficult to write (and even more difficult to post), so r** **eviews are particularly appreciated.**

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Bates took the lead, remembering once more that this would be Anna's first time. Despite his fears, this was still her wedding night and she deserved beautiful memories to treasure. He began with a kiss, cupping her face with both hands until he felt her relax into his lips. Their tongues dueled gently, a pleasant symphony of sensation interrupted only by deep sighs of contentment.

Breaking from the kiss, Bates allowed his lips to move to her neck, at the spot just below her ear where the skin was most sensitive. Anna trembled at the touch, her hands automatically gripping his elbows as she seemed to go weak in the knees. He kissed his way down to the edge of her dress, finding the fabric there to impede his progress.

"May I take this off?" he asked her.

"Of course. You don't need to ask."

With a shake of his head, Bates assured her, "But I do. I will ask you again and again. Anything which makes you uncomfortable, you may tell me to stop. At any time, I will stop. You need only say the word."

It was much like what he'd told her the first time they'd been intimate after the attack. But that was a lifetime ago, and a different person. Anna shook her head in way of answer, and he turned her around to work at the buttons on the back of her dress. As each sliver of skin was revealed, he welcomed it with a kiss, and Anna answered with a delighted shiver. The movement was slow and deliberate, as unhurried of a seduction as he could muster despite the ache which had begun in his own body.

He wanted her.

Bates knew he needed to deny himself. But the knowledge of what they were about to do, of seeing her bare once more before his eyes, was almost more than he could take. His heart was racing, blood pumping into all his extremities as though he had just run a footrace - a reminder of a much earlier time in his life. But he forced himself to be slow, to not hurry things with her. Anna deserved better.

He helped her out of her dress before taking off his waistcoat. She did not surprise him as she reached for the cuffs of his shirt, undoing the buttons as though she were an old hand at it. Giving no notice of her discomfort in standing before him in her corset and underthings, Anna did her best to suppress a shiver.

"Are you cold?" he asked.

"No, not cold."

He was not particularly cold in his own undershirt, but Anna was more sensitive to temperature than him. Bates removed his own shoes but hesitated at the button of his trousers. While his Anna from before had demonstrated no disgust at the array of scars mottling his lame leg, the moment was still a humbling one. While he had seen this woman - or one very much like her - naked before, this was her first time seeing him and did not want to frighten or disconcert her.

"What's wrong?" Anna asked, sensing his reticence.

"I just..." he began, not sure how to explain. But after taking a deep breath, he simply removed his trousers, allowing her to see for herself.

Her gaze darted towards his leg, most of the scars visible below the cuff of his underpants, and then discretely away. In addition to the torn and mended flesh from the shrapnel wounds themselves, there were scars on his leg left over from where that horrible limp corrector device had dug into his skin and left him bleeding and raw. Those had healed well enough due to Mrs. Hughes' assistance, but with the deepness of the cuts, permanent marks could not be avoided.

Anna said nothing at first, but after it became clear that he was waiting for some reaction, she mentioned quietly, "I knew you'd have scars, you know."

Before, they had been in the warm lamplight of the guest room at Downton. Anna had said something about his scars being a part of him, and thus a part of her, before she'd distracted him with a kiss. He could still remember that moment so clearly.

"Are they as bad as you imagined?" he asked, remaining in the present but wondering if he would be treated to her lovely statement once again.

"Everything which has hurt you is worse than I imagined," Anna informed him. He looked up to meet her eyes, and she was looking at him, not at the scars on his leg. And she was not attempting to distract him. "I only wish I could make things better for you, because you deserve much better, Mister Bates."

Bates smiled at her.

"I think I already have better than I deserve, but I appreciate you saying so all the same." With renewed confidence, he reached for the laces of her corset and asked, "May I?"

"Of course..."

Loosening the garment was easy enough, and if she felt surprised at his familiarity with the lacing, she said nothing about it. She stepped out of it and pretended as though her bareness was as natural a state as any she'd ever known. He tried to keep his eyes on hers, but it was an impossible proposition. He exhaled with difficulty, breath seizing up in his chest at the very sight of her. Her pale skin nearly glowed in the lamplight, and Bates wondered for perhaps the thousandth time in his life how on earth such a beautiful woman had chosen him.

His scrutiny must have lasted longer than he intended because Anna shifted uncomfortably under his gaze. She folded her arms below her breasts and looked at the ground, obviously uncertain of herself.

"I'm sorry," he confessed. "You're just so lovely, it is difficult not to stare..."

Her face looked even more beautiful as it turned pink at his compliment, and her eyes quickly went to him. "Surely you're used to seeing me this way..." she began.

He exhaled into the face of her belief, annoyed that it made her self conscious but glad that she did not think him mad.

"I'll never be used to it," Bates informed her. "Not after five years or one hundred. You are... incredible."

He closed the gap between them, taking the opportunity to kiss her again. She did not shy away from his embrace, even though their closeness brought him fully in contact with her. Anna could not mistake his desire, his need for her as their bodies met, even clothed from the waist down as they were.

"May I..." she asked, pulling away from him enough to grasp the hem of his undershirt. He nodded, and she pulled the garment over his head. Bates swallowed back a moment of nervousness, but Anna only smiled at him as he joined her shirtless state. After showing her the scars on his leg, a few extra pounds around his midsection was less of a concern.

Knowing what was to come, Bates nodded to the bed beside them, lying down and urging her to follow. She did so, she on her back and he beside her, as close that he could feel the heat of her body radiating towards his. With deliberate slowness, he let their lips meet as his fingers tangled in her hair. She'd removed the pins and taken it down at some point while they undressed, and he permitted himself the indulgence of delighting in its softness. Anna's hair reminded him of a thousand strands of silken sunshine as he ran his hands through its length. Her hands ventured forth to touch the hair on his chest, and her fingers tickled him in their exploration.

He in turn reached out to touch her breast, but he did so without warning and at the last moment froze in trepidation. Waiting for her to shrink back from him, Bates chastised himself for the slip. Anna needed more warning. Touching her without it sometimes took her into a flashback and ruined their encounters together, even after so many years had passed.

But this Anna had no such hesitations, he recalled in a flash. Bates reminded himself that she was still innocent of the horrors his other Anna had endured. Her reaction to his touch was one of simple pleasure; she gasped softly at the contact between them, closing her eyes to focus on it entirely. Moving with purpose, he shifted his body down on the bed so that he could take her pebbled pink skin into his mouth, eliciting an even stronger gasp. Anna arched her back into him, and Bates put his hand onto the the curve of her waist. But his progress was impeded by her bloomers.

"Should I take them off?" Anna asked.

"Please."

He helped her remove the underpants and she was finally completely naked. But before she could grow self conscious, Bates drew her back into his arms again and kissed her until her body relaxed. Each time they kissed, she grew bolder and more daring in her own explorations of his lips, and it heightened his need for her. They only parted so he could test and tease the skin under her ear, and he smiled as he heard her let out a frustrated sigh.

With the practiced ease of an old lover, he slid his hand back down her hip to the outside of her thigh, causing her entire body to shiver. Her legs were strong and he could feel the muscles tighten in anticipation as they quivered and parted slightly. Like an explorer venturing through new but familiar territory, he shifted his fingers across to her inner thigh, coming ever closer to his focus but not wanting to rush matters.

Anna groaned as he moved his lips further south, returning to the neglected side of her chest, and she shifted in growing frustration. He was not on top of her, not quite, but the angle of their bodies brought him in contact with her in brief, maddening moments, the fabric of his underpants hiding nothing.

It was maddening - every second of it. He never thought he would be back in this place with her, giving and taking pleasure from a woman who wore his ring. The knowledge left him light headed and more than a little guilty.

But he desperately wanted to please her, to give her pleasure. Bates pulled away only long enough to begin asking, "May I touch you-"

"Yes," she breathed out, understanding immediately and not waiting for more. She knew what he was asking and seemed eager to experience what he wished to offer her. "Yes, please."

Her enthusiasm encouraged him and Bates touched her softly at first with relaxed fingers, barely a graze until she grew used to him. But as the seconds passed, he exerted more pressure until she arched her pelvis upwards, seeking out the contact.

He was prepared for her reaction, waiting to steady her body as his fingers played her like a well practiced instrument. His mouth continued to lavished her skin, traveling from her breasts to her neck and the gentle slope of her shoulders. Anna murmured half-words and sighs in appreciation of the sensations, and then he'd silence her with another passionate kiss. Her hand continued to reach for him throughout, gripping his shoulder or sliding into his hair, as though she were never quite sure how to anchor herself.

"Mister Bates..." she managed as she broke apart from their kiss, and he smiled down at her. She would need a few more such nights before she'd feel comfortable calling him by his given name, and even then it would only be behind the closed doors of their cottage. Often times in the midst of lovemaking, she'd forget herself entirely and call him only by the name she'd always used - Mr. Bates.

He did not mind in the slightest. No sound could possibly be sweeter than her saying his name in the midst of pleasure.

"Is this all right?" he asked.

"...yes..."

Anna managed the answer despite the growing feelings within her, then took in a sharp breath as he moved to kiss her skin once more. His hand remained at her core, applying pressure where and how he knew she needed it most. As he touched her, he could almost forget himself and his own aching need. Such restraint was nothing new to him, but denying his own body brought with it a special kind of pain. However, tonight was about Anna - entirely her. It was her wedding night. Any release he found would incidental. In fact, it would be better if he found no release at all, better and safer for her, and he'd begun the night with that expectation.

Anna tensed beside him. He could feel from the way her muscles flexed that she was moving ever closer to that precipice of pleasure.

"May I touch you... deeper?" he asked, his voice as dark as the night outside, full to the brink with want. Wordlessly, Anna answered him with an anxious nod of her head.

He deepened the touch, gently and carefully, more than a little nervous to invade her body with any part of himself. But the need was primal, in her as well, and by the way her grip on him tightened, he knew she enjoyed it. Careful to take his time with it, he lost himself in thought as he focused his attention on her reactions. She opened her eyes periodically to look at him, peeking through lazy slits as she pressed her lips together in a tight line of a grin for bare seconds before she exhaled again through her mouth.

Sometimes it was difficult to remember how exquisite she was under those high collared uniforms and the form hugging, flattening restrictions of women's corsets. But gazing down at her, watching her reactions to his touches and kisses, the way her skin flushed pink even in the lamp light, Anna looked ravishing. Bates wondered if it was possible to love her more or if he had finally, in his lifetime, reached the pinnacle of his feelings. She had come to their bed willingly - no, enthusiastically - and that fact alone had to belie some of his feelings of worthlessness. Anna wouldn't love a worthless man.

"Oh..." Her breath came in gasps for a moment and he knew that she only needed a bit more and her world would be filled with blinding light. So for a time, he focused entirely on working her with his hand. It almost seemed like cheating because he knew her and what she liked. He read her reactions like a master of his field, drawing on years of memories with the same woman. He could draw on the experience of a hundred nights of passion and even a few more in which she'd quietly admitted in the darkness of their bed to him what she liked most. And yet, each reaction from her in that moment felt fresh and new, something he could not deny left him wanting her all the more.

While he knew Anna came to their marital bed as a virgin, she was not coy in her reactions. When her speech abandoned her, she expressed her appreciation through moans and gasps, and the way she reached for him reinforced her enjoyment.

When Anna finally climaxed, it might have taken her by surprise more than him. Bates already knew how to recognize her signs, when she got close to the edge. He also knew how to prolong the moment, to lengthen the waves within her until her muscles slowly stopped contracting and her limbs went limp. Watching her achieve that level of pleasure would never get old, no matter how many times he witnessed it. And it was perhaps the most powerful aphrodisiac known to man.

She kept her eyes closed through most of the experience, whether from embarrassment or to focus on the sensations, he was not sure. But when she did look at him, she beamed with such joy it was impossible to imagine anyone else with her. Anna smiled at _him_ alone. Anna loved _him_ , and her love was a very real and tangible thing between them.

But in the moments that followed her orgasm as her breathing began to slow and her eyes languidly opened to give him another of her adoring gazes, Bates was reminded of his own aching body. His desire had become an almost torturous pleasure, the sort of moment when he could have given in to weakness and allowed himself to follow her if only the contact between them had been right. But in the wake of her exquisite release, anything from him seemed dull and dirty.

Once she had recovered, Anna opened her eyes the gaze at him with pure adoration.

"That felt... amazing. I don't even... That was amazing," she repeated, her face flushing as she dropped her eyes down to his chest rather than meeting his.

"I'm glad." He smiled. Settling down into the bed beside her, he added, "I love you."

Anna grinned. "I love you." But after some moments of simply basking in their mutual admiration, she pressed, "But what about you?"

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Big thank you to those of you who were kind enough to review the last chapter or send me a private message. I truly appreciate it. This chapter is also rated M.**

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"But what about you?"

Her eyes flicked briefly to the obvious symbol of his desire pressed tightly against his underpants, and he wondered it if it frightened her. While he knew Anna was a virgin, she was not some cloistered girl who had never lived in the world. She'd seen animals in the fields and Bates felt certain that some maids talked about certain things behind closed doors as much as young footmen. So she knew what it was all about, knew what to expect. But seeing a male organ for the first time was different from knowing about it academically.

He could tell she was nervous, but she did her best to hide it. Behind that reticence was real excitement.

"Don't concern yourself with me."

Telling her anything else would be ungentlemanly. Touching his wife and bringing her to such heights was its own reward. She owed him nothing in return. And besides, the act of being with her brought with it more anxiety than joy at the anticipation of such release.

He'd have ended it there and waited with her to fall asleep, but Anna seemed determined that their encounter was far from over. Her brow furrowed at his lack of follow-up, as she obviously expected that what she'd just experienced was only a prelude to the completion of their first night together.

"I want to see you," she said plainly, her hand reaching out to trace the waistline of his undergarment.

Swallowing dryly, he realized that he could not deny such a request. Not pausing to think about it, Bates gave her a nod, undid the buttons, and removed it entirely. The warm air of their bedroom did nothing to inhibit his desire for her, and Anna did her best not to look at that part of him directly as she watched him strip off his last layer.

He should have felt more embarrassed, but somehow showing her his scars earlier had been more difficult than bearing the rest of his body. In some ways it was a relief to finally rid himself of the most superficial barriers between them.

"I know this should feel odd," Anna said, "but it doesn't. It actually seems quite natural."

She'd expressed a similar sentiment about their nudity before, on their wedding night in his past life. Bates smiled at her as he turned onto his side to face her. "I'm glad."

Shifting closer, she admitted bashfully, "I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next."

God, she was so young, so eager to please him. Bates recognized her self-consciousness as she brought her naked body into contact with his. The mechanics were basic and simple, but Anna seemed momentarily uncertain of exactly how to best begin the process.

Fear nagged at the back of his mind, but it was clouded by his body's tension and the clear-eyed woman beside him. With a sigh, Bates shifted onto his back and encouraged Anna to sit astride him.

"In this way, you have control," he told her, letting his hands rest against her upper legs. She leaned over him, her long blonde hair falling down and tickling his chest.

"Like this?" she asked, even as she eased him into her body. Her earlier pleasure helped a great deal and he had done his best to prepare her. But he knew that because it was her first time, there might be some discomfort. He had done what he could to-

The movement was so agonizingly slow as she fit them together that he could have died a thousand times. She lowered herself an inch, and then pulled up again, only to return and go a little further still. His body almost reacted without him, pulsing with need. But he kept tight control of it, forcing his eyes shut as his muscles flexed painfully with self restraint.

"Yes," he managed.

He seethed the answer through his teeth, all of his attention suddenly focused on the warmth of her surrounding him bit by bit, the momentous occasion of them finally being joined as intimately as two people could be. The tightness of her was something he could never describe with words. It felt like pleasure and death and the dozen most beautiful sunrises he had ever witnessed.

Anna lowered herself down and then back up again, testing as she became comfortable. He waited the interminable minutes for her to adjust, to make her body relax as it admitted a foreign invader. He hated considering himself in such terms, and Bates felt a fresh wave of guilt at taking her innocence. But Anna was obviously eager and willing, just as she had before. Only, now things were so much more complicated.

But after a time, Anna had managed to take in the full length of him, and she sat straight-backed, her full figure on display for him to see. He could never deny how lovely she looked, how utterly beautiful she was, and that beauty was only his to behold. Then her muscles tightened around him, perhaps without her even realizing it, and Bates was nearly done in.

"Not so much..." he begged, needing to retain control. "Just do what feels natural."

Before he could say more, Anna had heeded the instinctive call of her own body to move. He was grateful that she was so willing to take charge as he had not the will to do such things to her himself. In this way, he knew that everything which happened between them was at her express wish.

For a time, they were both awash with the sensations of being so intimately connected. Her face was locked with concentration, and after a few moments, she leaned forward to plant her hands on the bed beside his shoulders to help keep her balance. And this time, Anna kept her eyes open and locked on his far more. Bates let out a ragged breath as he took in the image of her: her eyes alive with desire, the looseness of her hair both erotic and thrilling as it cascaded down to him like a waterfall.

But as she began an almost rhythmic rocking, the pressure built with agonizing speed, and Bates feared what would happen if he did not interrupt matters soon. He reached up and pushed the hair back from her face and cupped her cheek. But instead of waiting for him to speak, Anna leaned down and kissed him.

The erotic nature of the kiss nearly did him in, and for a moment, Bates felt himself start to panic. When she pulled away and would have continued, he said, "Wait. Let me-" She paused to listen, and he went on, "I need to move us..."

Anna seemed confused but complied with his request, slowly disconnecting them before laying down on the bed beside him. He twisted over to cover her despite the discomfort in his leg, and she cooperated as he rejoined their bodies once more, this time with her beneath him. Connecting them went easier this time. She was more prepared for him after she'd already had her way with him, but he took care with her just the same. Anna was so tiny that his chin touched the top of her head, and he had to hold himself carefully so that he could look down at her. His knee ached at the pressure, but Bates did not care. In this moment, control was key, and he needed to be on top of her to maintain it.

A voice in the back of his head whispered angrily that he had no right to this, to her. He should stop now as he had no right to any of it, that this should be a pleasure forever denied him. Trying to quell the doubts, Bates reminded himself that it was for her, what Anna wanted. But that voice stayed with him, a constant companion.

He took his weight onto his arms as much as he could as he moved within her, the sensation nearly blinding him to anything else. With a groan, he stopped and took a moment to collect himself lest he finish right then and there. After a few moments, he began again, letting each movement subside as he gauged her reaction before attempting it once more. She shuddered against him, never once making any motion to arrest his movements.

"How is this?" he asked her, waiting for an audible response and not relying entirely on what her body was telling him.

Taking shallow breaths, Anna said, "It feels good..."

"You can tell me to stop."

It was the only way he could force himself away from her in that moment, if she asked it of him. Otherwise-

She shook her head. "Please don't."

Such encouragement was all that he needed. His desire was so strong that he thought it might strangle him. Her softness met with his hardened need, taking it and giving back as though they'd been purposely designed for each other. Anna's body had always felt like heaven, but on this occasion it was something more. Being inside her for the first time as her husband, as the man who'd sworn to love and protect her, made everything sharper and more final. His body shuddered against hers with each thrust, and Anna clung to him for dear life through it all.

Somehow, she found pleasure again. He hadn't expected it but to his amazement, her body suddenly clenched around him, the reaction purely involuntary as she rode through it even as he kept up the pace he'd set. The sight of her in such abandon, her head thrown back and eyes closed as she exposed a length of naked skin along her pale throat, left Bates momentarily speechless and almost unable to continue. But his body knew what to do, pushing itself past fatigue and the old pains until there was nothing but two people finding pleasure in each other's arms.

It did not take long for him to feel himself also growing close, and Bates felt the equivalent of cold water splash across his consciousness. He refocused entirely on his own body and its reactions. He had to be extremely careful-

On the precipice of his release, he pulled out of her, replacing her beautiful body with his own hand and at the last moment depositing his seed on the sheets beside her.

The finale felt wrong on so many levels, wrong that the sensation had changed so abruptly, wrong that he had gotten so far. But once it was done, he sighed with relief that he had managed to withdraw despite how involved he'd been in their lovemaking.

Anna looked up at him in confusion, obviously not recognizing what he had just done. In the wake of his finish, so strong and yet so very disappointing compared with how it might have felt otherwise, Bates collapsed onto the bed beside her. He was careful not to let his weight settle onto her slight figure least he crush her. His leg hurt. Now that his body was winding down from their exertions, he could actually feel the pain brought on by his abuse of the knee. But there was nothing for it but to let it have its say and hope it would settle back down again enough for him to sleep.

And sleep did whisper to him.

They lay beside each other for long moments, each struggling to regain proper breathing and their own faculties. Of course, Anna recovered more quickly.

"That was… beautiful."

He smiled in self satisfaction as he recognized the absolute truth in her tone. Anna never lied to him about such matters, especially not after she'd been attacked. One of the rules they'd established early on when rebuilding that part of their lives was that she be completely honest with him, to say when she felt uneasy or if something did not give her pleasure. In turn, Bates had also learned to pay attention to every detail of her reactions. While they had not had such a conversation in this lifetime, the understanding of truthfulness was still present.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

He looked to her face for confirmation but quickly noticed something was off. Her brow knit together a hair more than was natural, giving her a slightly quizzical expression.

"Anna?"

"I just... why did you do that?" she asked. "What you did… at the end."

Her awkwardness struck him with pain, that she did not yet feel she could speak plainly.

But such explanations belonged to him, and Bates knew he owed them to her without having to be asked.

"Had I not pulled away from you when I did, I'd have risked getting you with child."

Anna frowned but said nothing in response as her fingers ran along the hairs of his arm. The gentle touch caused chills to course through him and make those hairs stand up on end. If he lived a thousand years, he would never get used to the feel of her, even in such innocent moments.

"I know you think I'm too cautious," he said with a sigh. Fatigue was catching up with him and sleep called.

She shook her head. "No, it isn't that."

Anna did not look up at him but left her head cushioned on her shoulder as one hand strayed across his skin, exploring languidly. But even with a sidelong glance at her, he could see that she was still full of tension despite the way her body draped so well against him. Such pensiveness was not like her, and Bates struggled to discern what troubled her. Finally, he had no choice but to ask outright.

"May I know what is wrong?"

He had not hurt her, surely? Once, he may have worried about such a thing, but they had been together so many times before that he knew how to touch her. Well, not her precisely, but the equivalent of her twin. And she had never been shy about letting him know when she enjoyed something and when she didn't-

"I just..." She stopped and let out a deep, mournful sigh. "I just didn't know you would do that... this time."

This time.

Suddenly, Bates understood. Her first time. He'd always known that he was her first, as she'd shyly confirmed for him on their wedding night in his past life. And while she'd been adventurous and outgoing in the bedroom, her tastes tended towards the romantic - long kisses and deep touches, holding on without a thought of ever letting go. This Anna seemed much the same.

"I'm sorry," he told her sincerely, hoping he had not ruined the moment for her. "But I did not want to risk your health, Anna."

She did not like his answer, he knew, but she nodded in acceptance all the same. And just as swiftly as her mood had changed to one of pensiveness, it shifted back to loving acceptance. Her arm wrapped around his body, pulling her close by his side. The ease of their touch was something Bates would have to learn to grow used to again. After the years in which they'd been apart, it seemed like a new thing, this freedom. He relished it despite himself.

He knew he should dress and deal with the mess he'd made. But Anna's warmth and the promise of sleep after such a physically and emotionally arduous evening was too much to resist. Bates pulled a blanket over the top of them and they dozed together.

* * *

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: As always, I appreciate the thoughtful reviews of everyone who read and gave me feedback on the last chapter, especially those who took the time to PM me. I'm actually glad that folks can't quite figure out where this story is going because that means I'm writing it correctly. :)**

* * *

Plans for Lady Mary's wedding to Mr. Napier continued in earnest, and around them the house was abuzz with preparations. Mrs. Patmore and Daisy would be tasked with making the cake in addition to their regular duties, something which would prove a decided challenge given the shortage of dry goods at the end of the war. Bates heard through the grapevine that Thomas had attempted to get into the black market and capitalize on people's desperation, but it had not gone according to plan. A need for a job and Downton's need for experienced footmen saw his reinstatement at the house. Lord Grantham specifically kept the man on after Thomas distinguished himself by looking for a lost Isis, something which happened while Bates was away helping Anna fix up their cottage. However, as the Earl had not yet authorized the hiring of additional footmen, Thomas was tasked extra hard by Carson.

Everyone else went about their duties as normal, although the coming wedding provided a point of excitement, particularly for the women below stairs.

"Mrs. Levinson is traveling over from America. Plus they've invited Lady Sybil, but she won't be able to make the trip unless someone send her the money."

He listened as Anna went on about the details of the pending nuptials. Of late, he was reminded of those months spent in prison with little but gray walls and memories of his former life to engage his mind. At the time, every visit from Anna, every letter in the mail, was like a breath of fresh air in his stale environment. Back then he had grown to appreciate his wife's conversation, almost to the point of obsession. He assumed it was a function of his confinement.

But after much consideration of the subject without iron bars around them, Bates decided that listening to his wife was still one of his favorite occupations, something he could do for hours without getting tired or growing bored. Anna could discuss nothing but the weather and he would be left fascinated. It was like being newly wed all over again. Smiling to himself, Bates realized that he _was_ newly wed, properly this time, without being stolen from his bride. All the flowery romanticism he usually observed in poetry surrounded him in a haze of love, and Anna seemed just the same. Bates left his doubts on the edge of his mind, instead allowing talk of Lady Mary's wedding to heightened their marital bliss.

Beside him, Anna continued speaking as Daisy sat at the other side of the table, equally transfixed. The kitchen maid rarely had much opportunity to just rest in the servants' hall, but she seemed to be engaged in some battle of wills with Mrs. Patmore, who flatly refused to order her around. Bates could not know if this was something which happened in his past life or not, but he enjoyed the unusual deviation in their routine.

Of course, everything seemed different to him now. Each of these moments at Downton were now new to him as he'd been locked away in prison before. This time, Vera was alive and he was free, a welcome change in the timeline as far as he was concerned.

"Will his Lordship send her the money, do you think?" Anna asked him.

Shaking his head, Bates said, "Doubtful. Not after her marriage to Mister Branson."

Lord Grantham had not quite indicated as much to him, but the man's annoyance at his youngest daughter's improvident marriage still smarted. He wished more than anything he could say something to his employer, that he could suggested that the Earl cherish his time with Lady Sybil.

Anna frowned, as disquieted by the divide in the family as he was. Bates added quietly for her benefit, "But she may yet find the necessary resources."

Across the table, Daisy said, "Have you seen Lady Mary's dress?"

With great enthusiasm, Anna described it to the other woman, talking of the shop in London where it had been purchased and the places she'd had to alter it to better fit her employer. Bates suspected that she was rather looking forward to becoming a true lady's maid, having essentially served as one for so many years in addition to her responsibilities as head housemaid.

At the end of the table, Miss O'Brien added her say, "I think it is rather dull and dowdy, but I suppose that's the fashion these days."

The younger women ignored her opinion but Bates smiled in amusement. Miss O'Brien of all people had great expertise on the subject of 'dull and dowdy.'

As he listened to the women, Bates could almost make out in Daisy a sort of longing through all the talk of marriage and weddings. She had not been to see William since he had gone home to his father's farm, and when anyone brought it up, she shied away from the topic. He of all people could not blame her, but he sensed that she both wanted to see William and was simultaneously too afraid to do so.

No one asked he and Anna about their happiness in marriage, assuming it to be rather a given. And indeed, Anna appeared as overjoyed as he had ever witnessed her. Her enthusiasm for Lady Mary's wedding made him wonder if she didn't regret their quiet ceremony, even though she assured him that it was the perfect wedding for them. As for the rest... Far too often the good in his life was balanced more than equally with the bad, and Bates fretted that shift might impact Anna's life again as it had in his past.

He would give anything to ensure her happiness, anything at all. In dark moments, he contemplated what he was truly capable of doing to see her safe and secure. Would he kill Green? Or even Vera, if she came back with threats? While Bates had never believed himself capable of committing murder, Anna's attack in their past life proved him wrong. He could have easily broken the man's neck with his bare hands and lived with the consequences, had it not been for Anna.

But could he do it prospectively? Could he take the lives of those he knew would threaten Anna's well being even before they had done so? Bates was not certain, but as time passed, he knew he needed to prepare himself.

Bates was distracted from his thoughts again as Mr. Molesley entered the servants' hall. The man frowned as he sat down at the table between Daisy and Miss O'Brien.

"And what has you looking so cross?" O'Brien asked him. "Doesn't Mister Crawley want a valet?"

"No, I suppose not," Molesley answered somewhat wistfully. "But that's all right. I am absolutely indispensable to Mrs. Crawley."

While O'Brien used her skills of sarcasm to make 'indispensable' sound like something one scraped off their shoe into the waste bin, Bates studied the man. He still carried shadows behind his eyes, but he had settled back into life in the village admirably after the end of the war. Being reinstated as Mrs. Crawley's butler likely helped, although a position as Mr. Crawley's valet would have been more prestigious.

And secure. Mrs. Crawley did not particularly need a butler, as she'd learned during the war and as Bates had witnessed following Mr. Crawley's death. And Bates knew better than anyone how difficult it would be for Mr. Molesley if he was without a position.

Settling back, he watched as other servants flitted into and out of the hall, some stopping long enough to take a cup of tea and others simply walking through to check the daily log book for what needed to be done next. Eventually the bell rang and Bates stood up to attend Lord Grantham. He noticed Molesley watching him with a touch of envy in his expression.

* * *

While Mr. Crawley had long since moved back to the village to live with his mother, during his recovery at Downton from his bruised spine, Bates had often been tasked with assisting the man. They had not spoken much during that time, although Bates could sense in him a variety of emotions he himself had experienced after his war injury. The fact that Mr. Crawley blamed himself for Miss Swire's death made their kinship even stronger, at least as far as Bates was concerned. While neither man spoke on the subject, of course, Bates recognized it easily. The Crawley heir was forlorn and lackluster, spending far too much time staring blankly into space and not hearing when asked a question.

That was how he found the man one afternoon as he stood in the Grand Hall, apparently waiting for the family to finish with breakfast. It was less than a week before Lady Mary's wedding, and the man seemed quite on edge.

"May I help you, sir?" Bates asked formally.

The question roused Mr. Crawley from his thoughts and his eyes refocused. "I'm sorry, Bates," he said as the valet paused. "Actually, I did want to speak with you."

While most of Mr. Crawley's clothes had been moved to Crawley house following his convalescence, there were still a few in the attics at the Abbey. He requested that Bates pull out something appropriate and send it down for him to wear to the wedding.

"Of course," he readily agreed, although the errand seemed an odd one for Mr. Crawley to take on himself when he could easily have sent the rather willing Mr. Molesley.

As the two men stood together for a moment, neither speaking, Bates wondered if there wasn't something else.

"I guess I'm not very excited about the affair," Mr. Crawley admitted conversationally after a moment. He forced a smile which bore a striking resemblance to a grimace of pain.

Carefully, the valet remarked, "Understandable, sir."

He looked at Bates and gave a sardonic chuckle. "I suppose there were many who thought Lady Mary and I would be the ones walking down the aisle."

"It isn't for me to venture an opinion," he answered carefully, risking a sympathetic look.

Mister Crawley raised an eyebrow. "But if you were to venture one?"

Bates paused, not certain how much truth to tell. He knew the man little enough despite having assisted him periodically when his legs were paralyzed. But something about the way events were progressing left him uneasy, and he had a feeling that giving a nudge to Mr. Crawley now might set them back on course.

Finally, after organizing his thoughts, he responded, "Believe it or not, sir, I can readily understand your position. With Anna… I'm responsible for things in my past which should foreclose all happiness. But she wouldn't accept that. And she wouldn't accept a life without me."

It was a direct statement, even as round about as it was, and any other man might have been incensed at the presumption. But Lord Grantham's heir simply nodded thoughtfully at his frankness, and Bates suppressed his embarrassment at having shared so much.

"And if you thought Anna would have been happier with another man?" he asked, obviously thinking of Lady Mary and her fiance, Mr. Napier. But Bates could well place Anna into the same situation.

Letting out a long breath, he answered, "I'll never be without that fear, that I robbed her of a better life. It is something I must live with. But she chose me. She knows her own mind, and she knows best what will make her happy. Honestly, sir, I can never express my gratitude to her for that choice because it means my own happiness."

His answer may have surprised Mr. Crawley, but he could not tell. The other man said nothing as the conversation ended, but in light of what was to occur, Bates supposed their discussion must have given him food for thought.

* * *

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I'm a little sad that enthusiasm for this story seems to be waning. However, I do wish to thank all those who continue to leave me reviews and send words of encouragement. I truly appreciate each and every one.**

* * *

Despite his lingering worries, Bates enjoyed settling back into married life. They still worked hard at Downton every day, surrounded by the people who were like family to them, but in the evenings they had their own space to themselves. And he had to admit that it was nice to have this time together as newlyweds, for himself as well as for Anna.

She was more than content with their decision to marry, positively flourishing when turned loose to fix up the cottage. In many ways this woman was different than the Anna he had known before. This Anna had not endured the terror of watching her husband convicted for murder and sentenced to death. Instead, she had faced death herself in contracting the Spanish flu. Having faced her own mortality, she seemed determined to enjoy life as much as possible. And yet, while he attempted to think of this Anna as a separate individual from the woman he'd known before, it seemed impossible that she was not one in the same. Rather than the opposite side of a coin, she was the same side, only viewed from a slightly altered angle.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked him late one evening as they sat in their newly finished parlor sipping tea.

"Honestly?" He looked up at her, smiling. "You."

She grinned in delight at his answer, not even bothering to hide it. "Silly beggar," she murmured, meeting his eyes for half a beat before looking away.

"I was thinking of how happy you seem, and that perhaps this wasn't a mistake."

The explanation sounded badly in his own ears and he instantly regretted the words. Her smile faded into a look of consternation as she narrowed her eyes at him in a mock glare.

"Mister Bates," she chided, "of course it wasn't a mistake. You know I will not put up with that sort of talk."

"I know. I apologize."

But he would not get away with his comment so easily.

Anna sighed, her expression appearing troubled as she remarked, "I don't know what it will take for you to believe me that this-" She gestured between them and to their surroundings, "- is all I've ever dreamed of having."

Bates attempted to assure her, "I do believe you-"

"But you don't. Not really."

Sharing the truth was painful, but he felt he owed it to her after everything he had done, all the hurt he had caused her in trying to secure her future.

"Anna, I do believe you. Truly. Your love is a miracle I cannot deny."

But she would not convince him that he was worthy of it. Or her. He was not completely worthless; he recognized that. But in the light of such an amazing woman as Anna, he paled in comparison. Who wouldn't? Even without the sins of his past weighing him down, he would be unworthy of her.

Putting aside his personal thoughts, Bates told her sincerely, "Just know that I will do everything in my power to give you every imaginable happiness."

Save one, he mentally chastised himself. Children.

Swallowing against the lump which formed in his throat, Bates took a deep breath to steady himself. Just the thought of losing her again frightened him beyond all measure. It was the only reason he would deny her something he knew she wanted so badly. Not for the first time he wondered if she could survive childbirth if it was another man's baby inside her.

Thoughts of the past threatened to overtake him, and he pushed them stubbornly away, anxious to banish the memories of that horrible night even as he knew that he never could. Even with Anna alive and sitting just an arm's length away from him, he still carried the burden and always would. It was like being a prophet, tormented by knowledge of a future he desperately hoped to change.

Anna put aside her teacup and stood up from the sofa. Having already slipped out of her shoes, she padded across the short distance to his chair and without preamble lowered herself into his lap. He settled her onto his left side, and she took care with his bad leg but showed no hesitance in such closeness. He began to wonder if Anna delighted in pushing the boundaries of behavior or if his having voluntarily abandoned her left feelings of inadequacies which could only be quelled by intimate touches.

As Anna settled against him, the warm weight of her was enough to stir in him the beginnings of desire.

"Then I suppose I'll have to redouble my efforts to convince you," she teased.

She leaned forward, letting her lips come into contact with his in the barest of touches. Allowing her to do as she wished, Bates waited apprehensively. He could not deny her in this, not when his own body appreciated the way she shifted against him. But at the same time, he felt as though it was wrong to encourage her.

Once, doubts would have plagued him as to whether Anna's demonstration of need was born of her true feelings or notions of what a wife _ought_ to do. But Bates held the benefit of years of marriage in his memory, and in consulting those remembrances, he recognized the genuineness of her efforts. When their kiss deepened, he knew it was a sign of her wanting more, of her seeking greater intimacy from her husband.

In a flash of understanding, he recalled how she was when they first moved into the cottage in that past life - elation to have him back and out of prison, breathless with anticipation, and armed with confidence gained from their first night together. By comparison, the Anna in his arms kissed him for the delight of the action, not necessarily as a preamble for more. In some ways, she truly was just a young woman still in the blush of her first love, reveling in all of its aspects.

His hands found her hair as he kissed her back with greater passion. As much as the taste of her and the warmth of her mouth stirred him with thoughts of more, the act need go no further. A man could kiss his wife without any expectation of more from her, he reminded himself severely.

Just the feel of the silk-like threads of her hair against his fingers was a pleasure, and Bates longed for the freedom to truly run his hands through it. As she sank into him, he began pulling out her carefully placed pins, removing them one by one as he found them, precious treasures in his quest. In a way, the motions were almost second nature as he thought back to the times he had taken down the hair of his wife before, in that ethereal before-ness he thought of as his past life. This Anna placed her pins in just the same way, and he found them with ease.

She broke away from their kiss just as her hair began its reluctant cascade down the beautiful curve of her neck, and Bates suppressed his disappointment at being momentarily denied the touch of it loose and free.

Smiling at him, Anna ran a hand through her hair. "You did that rather well, Mister Bates. You didn't miss any at all, did you?"

Her bemusement at the observation was met with only a half smile in return. As much as Anna professed to believe him about having known her before, she might not truly understand the depth of his familiarity with her person.

But she surprised him.

"You've had much practice in taking down my hair, I take it?"

The subtle disappointment in her eyes was clear, and it pained him that he caused that emotion in her. This Anna-

No, he scolded himself. Anna. She was simply Anna. He would not compare or contrast her to the woman of his memory. They were the same person, and he would treat her as such or fall into the same pitfalls of what had just happened, that she believed herself to be a lesser sequel rather than the main feature.

"I love your hair," he told her, avoiding the question but speaking sincerely. "I hope you'll allow me the opportunity to improve my technique."

Her expression would have answered the inquiry even if her resumption of their kiss did not. Her hands balanced on his shoulders as she leaned into him once more, her position on his lap making their heights perfectly compatable. Bates resumed his exploration, letting his fingers twine sensually in the softness of her hari, even as the scent wrapped around him. She smelled of lavender today.

They kissed for a while longer, as the fire at the hearth began to die down and the room grew colder. By the time Anna pulled away from him and rested her head against his shoulder, the air in the room had chilled considerably. It felt good against his skin, the warmth she'd built in him with her mouth on his having heated his blood to an almost painful extent. Bates knew she must feel him against her, although she did not outwardly acknowledge the unmistakable presence of his physical want.

When she spoke, her voice was only a whisper of her lips a few centimeters from his ear.

"Are you ready for bed, John?"

His sigh came out slow and stilted, and he closed his eyes as he realized this moment was the first time Anna had used his given name, in this life at least. The profoundness of it touched him as he had only ever encouraged her once to use it, and the Anna in his arms had not the benefit of that long-ago entreaty.

"I am," he told her. But the thought of facing the inevitable question of whether their kissing and his desire should go forth to something more was beyond him. So instead, he snaked his arms around her waist and hugged her to him with a firm grip. "But let's delay a little longer," he suggested.

Anna sat with him like that for a time, her head resting on his shoulder while they were still together, their shared warmth combating the cold. After the minutes had become moments and he felt his body quieting, she shifted again, and thoughts of her came rushing back to him.

Finally, she spoke, albeit hesitantly. "Is it because of your scars?" she asked.

The question puzzled him.

"Is what because of my scars?"

The way they sat, he could see little of her face except in profile, but her hand moved to the collar of his shirt. Her fingers were delicate, small like a child's.

"Is that why you seem so... reticent?"

He sighed at the query, not sure how to answer her. Surely she understood the truth, his deep and abiding fear of getting her with child. He viewed it as nothing short of a death sentence, one only he could confer, and nothing would ever truly quell that fear.

But her seeing the scars on his leg had not been something he'd looked forward to, either in his first life or in this one. While Anna never showed disgusted at his body, she could not delight in the grotesque, only endure it. The notion of forcing her to do so ate at him for too long, until they both forgot that there was any other way of life. He simply was who he was, and Anna saw through all his faults and fissures to what diamond she believed to lie within.

"You're a beautiful woman, Anna," he stated aloud. "You shouldn't have to play Beauty to my Beast."

If he expected a passionate, angry response, he did not receive it. Rather, she answered matter-of-factly, "You aren't a beast. Far from it."

And deep down, there was more to it than the superficial appearance of the injury to his leg. The scars were a reminder of not only a very frightening and painful moment, but of all the frightening and painful moments that followed. Somehow, when Anna looked at him, he feared she might see right through the scars and through him. She might glimpse a time in his life he had no desire for her to see or for him to relive.

Anna moved slightly so that he could see her face. Her hand strayed from his collar down to the first button of his shirt, although she only toyed with it.

"You must know that you're a very handsome man," she said quietly. Her eyes were cast downward, so he was treated to a full view of her very long eyelashes. Her light hair made them difficult to see most of the time.

"Must I?"

Her lips quirked into a small grin, as though she had a secret she was not certain she wanted to share.

"You are," she divulged finally, and Bates waited to see if she would expand on the statement. "You have a kind and gentle face. Your eyes are lovely. And your hair..."

She took a moment away from his shirt to run a hand through his hair. It was a bit growing too long, and he was reminded that he needed to have it cut. But Anna seemed to enjoy the extra length, nearly as much as he enjoyed running his fingers through hers.

Her sincerity touched him, and he only wished that his body was equal to her admiration of his face. But Anna was not quite finished with her assessment.

"I love your arms, you know," she admitted quietly, running her hand along his shoulder. He could feel her touch through the fabric of his shirt and for a moment, the passion he'd been tamping down came rearing back.

"I'm not sure there is any part of you that I don't love, Mister Bates." With a quiet but sincere smile, she leaned forward to kiss him. The meeting of their lips was quick and chaste, but Bates thoroughly enjoyed the feel of her in his arms and the easy way in which she claimed him. He could not believe everything she said, of course, but-

"And I do mean every part of you," Anna interrupted his thoughts with a pointed look. "I know your scars are a sad reminder for you, but for me... they let me know how lucky I am to have you, to have even met you."

Anna had never said such a thing to him before, although he had always instinctively known that she felt that way. She never resented his stick for slowing him down, but rather was glad he could use it to walk better.

"I'm the lucky one, Anna."

* * *

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Well, I was blown away by the wonderful reviews to the last chapter, especially those in response to my suggestion that people might not be interested in this story any more. To be clear, I have every intention of continuing to write it, but I'm glad to know folks are still enjoying the story. Thank you again for my lovely reviewers as you truly make the process worth while.**

* * *

They attended the wedding of Lady Mary and Mr. Napier with everyone else from the house and half the village. Much talked of ahead of time, it was perhaps the event of the season with flowers and ribbons brought in specially for the occasion. And Bates knew from Anna's discussion with Daisy that Lady Mary's dress was quite a sight.

"Do you regret not getting married in a church?" Bates asked his wife.

With him being truly divorced from Vera, they hadn't been permitted, but Anna gave no indication at the time that she minded. Now, as he met her at the church and she looked wistfully at the decorations and flowers on the carriage outside, he wondered. Should he have made their wedding more special rather than going to the registrar's office again? After all, this second chance was one to do things differently, not necessarily settle for what had come before.

"Of course not. I already told you that."

There was a hint of "silly beggar" in the way she responded, but her expression told him what he needed to know of her feelings. Her tone soothed even as her words scolded him, and he knew instantly that she did not secretly harbor a wish for a wedding like Lady Mary's.

"I wouldn't change anything about it," she said. Looking closely at him, she asked, "Would you?"

With a slight smile, Bates shook his head. "No, I'd change nothing."

The exchange was just one of many they'd had in the months since he had returned from Kirkbymoorside. She was rapidly becoming a master at making inquiries without asking questions, of learning from him what she wished to know with only a raised eyebrow or lovely smirk. Her ability to get around his defenses and draw from him what he did not wish to share was both maddening and endearing.

"You are disappointed that she's marrying Mister Napier," Anna remarked, attempting it once again.

"I didn't say that," he told her. "I'm simply surprised, that's all."

"You think she should marry Mister Crawley."

"I think she should marry who she wants to marry."

Bates refused to say more on the subject. Now that history had changed, he could only do so much to try and force it back into its earlier path. He had no wish for that with Anna, and so in good conscience could not interfere in the lives of others.

But the thought of Lady Mary not being with Matthew Crawley still seemed... wrong.

* * *

Bates sat in a pew about halfway back in the church, one space over from the aisle. He insisted that Anna take that seat so she could have a better view, her being short enough that those in front of her would keep her from witnessing the momentous event. And to her, it was momentous indeed.

Lady Mary was finally getting married. Some had suggested the day might never come. Others were simply swept up in the excitement and romanticism of a wedding, one of the most joyous of occasions. But Bates fought against his rising concern that this marriage was not only ill conceived, but his fault in deviating from what should have happened. Lady Mary should have been marrying Mr. Crawley, not Mr. Napier.

But there the man stood at the front of the church, talking with the vicar and looking nervously over his shoulder towards the door. Mister Napier cut a fine figure, and Anna felt he would be a good husband for Lady Mary as he seemed to adore her. The family readily approved of him, but Bates sensed that everyone seemed too quick to extol his virtues. It wasn't that he was a bad choice so much as he wasn't the _right_ choice.

Around them, the other servants and villagers chatted among themselves as they waited. Weddings never seemed to start on time, at least not the few Bates had witnessed, and he supposed there were things needing to be properly choreographed. But when the appointed hour came and went, and still no Mary or processional music, the tone of whispers among the pews changed.

"She should have come in by now," Anna fretted. "She was just outside when I left her."

"Cold feet?" Bates suggested, a little hopeful. Perhaps there was still a chance-

There was a small commotion at the front of the church and Napier strode out down the center aisle, his face an expression of confusion and hurt. Lord Grantham followed, and Bates noticed that Matthew Crawley was not with the rest of the family at the front of the church. Meanwhile, the attendees simply waited, their collective discussion growing into a dull roar in the enclosed space.

"I better see what is the matter," Anna excused herself, getting up to walk out the back of the church as well.

While Bates waited, he glanced over to see who all had come out for the wedding. Of course, the family was at the front. Lady Edith sat by her mother, wearing a light gray dress rather than something brighter. She had gone through the full period of mourning after Sir Anthony Strallan's death and while her time to return to full colors had long since come and gone, she still strayed towards more drab and sedate wear. Perhaps she considered it her duty as a widow, to show everyone how much she missed the man who had been her husband for only a few months. Or, Bates pondered, perhaps she simply could not abide the thought of colors when her world still felt dark.

He well understood that point of view.

Lady Sybil had made it to the wedding along with Mr. Branson. Stories filtered down to the servants' hall of the shenanigans involving him, along with a certain unforgettable dinner party with Lord Merton and his sons. Bates smiled as he recalled the way Anna had related that particular circumstance to him when he was in prison, before. This time they had chuckled over it in the privacy of their cottage once it became apparent that Mr. Branson's actions had been vindicated. But now the man sat at the front of the church in a coat and tails, looking very much like the rest of the Crawleys.

All of the servants from the house were there as well, except Daisy and Mrs. Patmore, who he knew to be putting the final touches on the food for the reception back at the Abbey. Mister Carson and Mrs. Hughes sat together, the butler remaining as stoic for the occasion as he could, although Mrs. Hughes wore a mischievous expression as she chatted with him.

As he turned his gaze away, Bates' eyes landed on someone else - Doctor Clarkson. The man sat in the second pew, behind the family, but behind Isobel Crawley. The two conversed easily across the back of the pew and with some animation despite the solemn locale. And as Mrs. Crawley's attention was drawn away by one of the other Crawley women, Bates noticed the expression on the doctor's face. He looked at Mrs. Crawley much the way he himself likely appeared when he was looking at Anna.

But as he continued to look around, Bates noticed someone standing in the back, nearly completely hidden amidst the shadows. The church was not built for places to hide, but the weather outside was cloudy and this individual had managed to find the sliver of darkness in the otherwise bright church. He stood tall, although his shoulders slouched in his farmer's Sunday best attire. As Bates watched, the man shifted his stance and for a brief moment, part of his face came into view.

William.

There was no mistaking the lad despite the mask he wore over half of his face. The flesh-toned fabric was obvious and stood out as covering a war injury, much like the glove Thomas wore. Bates had seen several like it in his life. Based on its placement, the burns William had survived extended thoroughly across one side of his face, up into his hairline and down past the collar of his shirt. Thankfully, his eye appeared to have been spared, hopefully meaning that his vision had been as well. He was not as bad as some of the soldiers Bates had seen come out of the war, but he could understand why the young footman had gone home to his father's house and why he wore a mask now.

Indeed, as Bates' gaze continued on, he noticed that Mr. Mason was standing next to his son. The older man was a head shorter than William, but they shared the same expression of stoic patience. Whereas William's eyes darted about, clearly afraid of being noticed and recognized, Mr. Mason looked almost proud. And perhaps he was proud - proud of his son, for going to war and for returning home, even injured as he was. Proud that William had ventured into the public after so many months of confinement.

Bates considered walking over to the men to say hello, but by the way William was standing, so deliberately out of the way, he suspected that the young man had no wish to see or speak with anyone. Indeed, he looked ready to bolt for the door should someone approach him. William had likely chosen to attend Lady Mary's wedding out of respect to her, as a woman who had been kind to him and his family in the past, a woman who had known his mother. But he did not wish to be observed, and he did not wish to converse with others. Bates could readily identify with that feeling, having gone through something similar after returning from Africa.

As minutes passed, the crowd continue to grow anxious at the lateness and no bride appearing. It was some time before Anna slipped back into the church and the pew beside her husband. Her expression confirmed what he already suspected – there would be no wedding today. He gave her a quizzical expression, and she simply shook her head with a touch of sadness.

Soon enough, his Lordship also returned and strode to the front of the church to address those assembled there.

"May I have your attention, everyone? Lady Mary has unfortunately taken ill, and the ceremony cannot go forward today. Thank you all for coming."

The gravity in Lord Grantham's voice was not mistaken, and Bates knew that Lady Mary had neither taken sick, nor would the ceremony go forward on any other day. The clipped way the Earl had made the announcement probably told everyone else the same. In a way, it was a relief, and Bates could not help but feel as though the universe had finally righted itself in this one instance.

The attendees left the church slowly, taking time to gossip among themselves as they left. Bates walked with Anna, noticing as he did that William and his father had disappeared from the back of the church. The only conversation anyone had was about the doomed wedding and who had called it off – Lady Mary or Mr. Napier. But Anna had it straight from the horse's mouth.

"Apparently, Mister Crawley visited Lady Mary just before the wedding and begged her not to go through with it, to marry him instead. Mister Napier came to see what was taking so long, and he saw Mister Crawley with her. I don't know exactly what happened, but it seems Mister Napier made the choice for her."

"So he left her at the altar?" Bates asked.

Anna nodded. "I'm not sure she wouldn't have gone through with it, Mister Crawley's proposal not withstanding. Perhaps it is better this way, but still... What a horrible thing to have happen to Lady Mary."

He had not been there before when Lady Edith was left at the alter by Sir Anthony Strallan, but he remembered Anna's face as she'd told him about it during one of her visits to him in prison. The public humiliation and abandonment were devastating to a woman like Edith Crawley, but Bates wondered how Lady Mary would react.

As they walked back to Downton, Anna said quietly, "I think she's mortified at having to cancel the ceremony with people already in the church, but... She seemed relieved. Maybe she finally realized she didn't actually love Mister Napier."

"Perhaps not the best day to be figuring that out," he observed.

"Better than tomorrow, when there would be no going back," Anna pointed out.

"Very true."

Through their conflict with Vera, he and she both knew better than most the problems with an ill-advised marriage. And for the Crawleys, divorce was not an option he could see them ever employing.

Bates asked with a touch of amusement, "So... will she marry Mister Crawley now?"

Anna smirked at him. "I suppose we'll find out."

* * *

TBC


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Hope everyone had a good Christmas and enjoyed the Christmas Special and final episode of the show. My feelings were mixed (no spoilers here), but I'm excited to continue writing in the fandom as I have several more stories to share as I get them ready to post. Thank you as always to my wonderful reviewers who make the writing worth while.**

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Lady Mary being left at the alter was all the talk of the county for some time, and wrapped up in the gossip was her uncertain relationship with Matthew Crawley. Were they engaged? Did she blame him for Mr. Napier calling things off? Or was she grateful for the opportunity to end her engagement at the last possible moment?

The only person who knew any of those answers was Lady Mary herself, although Anna was nearly her only confidant.

"She and Mister Crawley are... talking," was all his wife would reveal to him. But there was a twinkle in her eye which her husband could read quite well.

Bates did not envy the couple the gossip which would follow them for a time, but he was glad that Lady Mary had not married Mr. Napier, not while Mr. Crawley was still alive and walking the earth. While he had never had the relationship with the Earl's daughter which Anna enjoyed, he did think well of her and wish her all the best, especially considering the support she had given he and Anna in his past life.

Thankfully, the Bateses did not have any major domestic issues to contend with themselves. Settling into a routine at the cottage had proved surprisingly easy. However, this new life did present some challenges he had not anticipated, or rather, that he did not remember as sharply from before.

Anna attempted to help him more than he preferred, and while he appreciated her concern, the notion that she viewed him as verging on helpless grated on his nerves.

"I can do that," she said the first time he went out to retrieve coal for their stove, the coal scuttle in one hand and a lantern in the other.

"No need," he answered.

Eyeing him suspiciously, she grilled him, "But don't you need your stick?"

"I will be all right for the few steps outside," Bates assured her. In truth, walking without the cane was very burdensome and put a great deal of pressure on his knee. But he would not be allowing his wife to carry coal, not when he was perfectly capable of doing the dirty job. Having learned over the years to compromise on the activities he could not engage in, Bates still refused to give up on certain endeavors. This was one.

He wondered if it was because he had not gone to prison, this over-protectiveness of Anna. Before, she'd had no qualms about him getting coal or a number of any other activities he engaged in around their home. Of course, before she had seen him sentenced to hang from the neck until dead and then visited him in prison for a year and a half. Things were bound to be different this time around.

And by the same token, Anna had her own duties she insisted on performing without his interference. She did most of the cleaning and tidying at the cottage. She picked up any sundries from the village they might need on her half day or while she performed errands for Lady Mary. They each did their own laundry up at the Abbey, being well versed in the proper preservation and mending of clothing. She made their evening tea and changed their bedsheets on a regular basis, remarking, "I do this ten times a day already. What is one more?"

It took some getting used to, but they gradually became acquainted with each other's habits and quirks. Bates counted himself as having an easier time with it because Anna was just as he remembered, and he truly enjoyed his domestic life with her. For her part, Anna never seemed put out or the least bit cross with him.

And around them, the world continued to spin and others lived their lives.

Mister Molesley continued on at Crawley house as the butler and sometimes valet to Mr. Crawley, although everyone knew that a full time promotion to the latter position would be more meaningful to him. Thomas settled back into the house as a footman, although his job was as precarious as ever before. Daisy went about her days quietly, with the sort of brisk efficiency that betrayed something on her mind, something she would not talk about to anyone. And perhaps there was a great deal of that going around, as Mrs. Hughes seemed to be hiding her own difficulties of some sort.

But publically, the biggest commotion came about when the eldest Crawley daughter and Matthew Crawley had finally announced their engagement a few weeks after Lord Napier left her at the altar.

"So they've finally decided then, have they?" Miss O'Brien said as she sat mending something at the servant's hall table, eager to finish as she eyed the cigarette case waiting for her to one side. "'Bout time."

Anna defended them, "I don't blame them for taking their time, not with everything that happened."

"Indeed not," Carson agreed as he took a sip of tea, and the way he intoned the words meant there would be no further discussion on that particular subject, at least not in his presence.

"I suppose Lady Mary will be making you a proper lady's maid once she and Mr. Crawley are married," Mrs. Hughes mused, clearly already calculating the loss of Anna's services as the head housemaid. But she did not let her anxiety outweigh her enthusiasm for the head housekeeper.

But Anna shrugged. "I don't know. I suppose she would, but I can't say for certain."

Bates suspected why Lady Mary had not already discussed this issue with Anna. He could see it on the faces of the family even though they kept their secret well hidden. Experience from before told him that his Lordship's fortune was once again gone and the estate might fail for lack of funds. The valet knew that Mr. Matthew had been their savior in a prior life, but there was no telling if it would play out the same this time, if Mr. Swire's inheritance would come at exactly the right moment. Sometimes events proceeded in unexpected ways, making the future more uncertain than Bates fathomed it ought to be.

"Do you think they'll have to sell the house?" Anna asked him that evening as they made the long but familiar trek to the cottage.

He shook his head. "I couldn't say. His Lordship hasn't talked of it with me. But you and I would likely still retain our positions, regardless."

"Yes, but... surely you know..."

The question in her voice petered out as she sighed, frowned, and looked away from him. She followed up quickly, "I shouldn't say such things. You've told me events have changed from what you remember, and it isn't right to always prod you."

Bates felt she was more irritated with herself than he had ever been with her queries, spoken aloud or otherwise, and he suddenly felt guilty that he might have let on otherwise.

"I don't mind you asking, Anna. Truly, I don't. But there are some things I cannot answer."

"And some things you don't wish to discuss."

Her observation was born of great perception, and he nodded at the truth of it.

"I don't blame you," she said quietly. "And I'm sorry if my curiosity gets the best of me sometimes."

"You have nothing to apologize for." Searching for a way to salvage their conversation from gloom as they arrived at the cottage, he asked, "Are you looking forward to the honeymoon in France?"

Despite the financial difficulties of the family, he knew the honeymoon would go forward. He hoped so, at any rate, for Anna's sake as much for soon-to-be newly weds.

But Anna seemed pensive at this topic as well. "I still think you should allow me to have Lady Mary persuade Mister Matthew to take you as well," she ventured.

He helped her with her coat and hat before turning and allowing her to assist him with his own. The day had been a long one, and neither felt like making tea at the cottage.

Shaking his head as he escorted his wife through to their bedroom, Bates countered, "And deprive Mister Molesley of such an opportunity for travel? That doesn't seem very sporting."

He noticed her press her lips together and hold back a response to his comment. Anna - both versions of her - had a tendency to put _him_ first, over all others. He admired her for the tenacity and the love for him that it demonstrated. It also reminded him of how guilty she had felt when he missed accompanying Lord Grantham on his trip to America in order to stay at home with her.

Bates quickly pushed such memories away. One positive of his travel through time was that he never had to see such sadness in Anna's eyes ever again, not if he did things correctly. Not if he protected her this time.

But in this instance, Bates knew that his wife was wrong to try and insist on him going to Paris as well. If anyone were to serve as valet for Mr. Crawley on the trip, it should be Mr. Molesley who desperately wanted the position on a full time basis. As well, Anna perhaps did not yet appreciate that there were certain benefits inured to valets, including both clothes and opportunity for travel. Scheming to deprive Mr. Molesley of his hard-earned perks was something more like what Thomas would do.

As they changed out of their clothes and got ready for bed, Bates smiled as he pulled back the sheets. Being married to a housemaid meant that their small cottage was always clean and tidy, including the bedsheets. And there was nothing quite like crawling into a well made bed after a long day of work.

"It is a shame we have to be going to sleep so soon," she remarked with a strange casualness.

"We have a little time. Would you like to stay up for a while? We could read..."

He made the offer automatically, not quite hearing the wistfulness in how she spoke. But as he turned in bed to look at her, Bates' voice fell away as he noticed the way she looked back at him. She had not a predatory gleam in her eye, but he suddenly felt very much like a fox before a hunt, jumpy and nervous.

"Are you tired?" she asked, soft and beautiful in her nightgown with her hair down in a loose plait.

He swallowed, fighting back an automatic bodily reaction to the suggestion in her tone. Desiring Anna came as natural as breathing, but he had to keep a tight rein on such feelings now. He was tired, or at least fatigued enough that maintaining control would be more difficult. And he could not lose control, no matter what.

Regretfully, he answered, "It is rather late. I really should be getting to sleep. His Lordship has an early day tomorrow."

The excuse was not quite a lie, but it certainly felt like one. Anna nodded and turned her gaze away, obviously disappointed. But before she could slide under the covers and hide from him in embarrassment, he leaned forward to kiss her. The meeting of their lips was always a pleasure, but this time it had a healing quality as well, an apology and a promise of something more in the future. Bates let himself linger in the moment, deepening the kiss but slightly as Anna leaned into his larger frame.

When they parted, a small smile had taken over her expression, soothing out the worry lines he had seen before.

"I love you so very much, Mrs. Bates," he said to her.

* * *

TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: This chapter is rated T, but the next will definitely be rated M.**

 **I really appreciate those who have been supportive of this story. Your reviews mean the world to me and give me the encouragement to keep writing.**

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As weeks stretched on and married life became routine, Bates found that he could put off his wife less and less. The nights they were together, he restrained himself until the last possible moment, but each time Anna sought him out, an aching fear accompanied the excitement that her touch elicited. Nervousness permeated his thoughts to such an extent that it leaked into his unconscious, filling his dreams with old memories and turning them into new nightmares.

In one, he reached out his fingers to graze the side of her face, but the touch burned her like acid. He awoke again and again, the sound of his wife screaming still ringing in his ears even as he looked over to see her sleeping peacefully beside him.

"I can't," he finally told her one evening, after several weeks. She had simply put a hand on his shoulder as he sat on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.

"We don't have to..." Anna sighed, and said frankly, "I know how difficult this is for you."

Bates very much doubted that she did, but he refused to contradict her.

"You told me that I had trouble becoming with child before," she reminded him. "It might never happen, even if you couldn't restrain yourself."

She hated it when he pulled away from her, he knew, even though she never said anything. As much as he might assure her otherwise, she took it as a reflection on herself, her body and desirability, that he would not take his pleasure as nature intended.

But he did not trust nature, and he did certainly did not trust himself.

"I cannot take the risk," he emphasized yet again, exhaling slowly as he saw a flash of her face, the sound of her agony as the pain scalded her.

"But that doesn't mean that you have to be denied pleasure," he went on.

Anna shook her head.

She had refused each time he offered to give her release whilst denying himself. Part of him wondered if she still worried over the old world notions that sexual pleasure was reserved for men, that only women of low character and social standing enjoyed it. But like the Anna he had known before, his wife now was a woman dedicated not only to pleasing her husband, but to also finding mutual joy between them. Of course, she focused on the 'mutual' far more than he would like. It did not help matters that his body made it abundantly clear when he wanted her, and Anna would not accept his attempts without insisting on seeing to his needs as well. Somewhere ingrained in her mind was the belief that if they started down the road of his complete self denial, that they would never see the end of it.

"Whatever solution we find must be for the both of us," Anna insisted. "I couldn't just... _take_ from you, selfishly-"

"But it isn't selfish," he hissed with exasperation. The very thought of such a belief entering her mind-

With a great effort, he lowered his voice and steadied his trembling emotions so he could speak clearly. "Letting me love you is not selfish, Anna, not in the least. My pleasure is of so little consequence... And you don't understand what it means to me to make you happy."

His own mind had already learned to associate the reactions of his body with the most coarse and baseless of acts. Even before all this in his past life, he had known and employed a measures of restraint. Doing so was a facet of the male species. When he and Anna began trying for children, it had taken him time to learn to let go.

But Anna... she was a Goddess put into human form, her beauty no more perfect than when he could drive her past the heights of passion. _She_ need not be restrained or denied, and the idea of encouraging such for her rankled. In fact, it was his duty to give her as much as she might want or desire, not to seek out for himself.

She looked at him with sad eyes.

"I wish I did," Anna said softly, almost mournfully. "Truly, I do wish I could understand, but I'm not allowed to give you pleasure or to feel happy about it when you do..."

She looked away in shame, obviously embarrassed for having shared such a blunt sentiment with him.

And Bates suddenly realized what he had been denying in the weeks since their marriage, the need his wife felt to reciprocate not only his love, but the ability to reach out and physically give love to another person. Anna accepted his love for her, but he would not let her give him the same. In fact, every time he found pleasure, the act of it left him so riddled with guilt that he managed to push a portion of his guilt onto her.

"I'm so sorry," he told her quietly. "I hadn't thought about it like that."

Not for the first time, he wondered if he hadn't done Anna a disservice by reentering her life. Might she have found happiness with another if he had left her be? Or would she be like him so long ago, a lost soul in search of its missing half, yearning for someone she could never have?

"I won't risk getting you with child, but there are other intimacies," he ventured finally.

He had been hesitant to introduce her to them before, mostly because Bates knew of Anna's inherent need to keep things between them equal. And the last thing he wanted was to lead her into something she might find distasteful.

Anna looked at him with curiosity, her eyes both innocent and full of veiled knowledge he likely knew not the depth of. But she nodded in eager agreement and let the matter drop, for a few days at least.

* * *

Their half days did not always coincide, especially if the schedules of either Lady Mary or Lord Grantham required the attendance of one of their servants. But with the long awaited wedding occurring so soon and the following honeymoon to take Anna away to France for a month, they were permitted some time off together. Bates walked with his wife into the village, and from there they traveled further to Ripon so that he could treat her to a nice luncheon at a tea shop. He also bought her some handkerchiefs she admired in a storefront, happy to give the clerk the money - perhaps more than the thin cotton fabric was worth - just to see the smile alight Anna's face.

She still smiled a great deal, even with the difficulties between them. And he found, despite the worry that occasionally threatened to overwhelm him, that he was all too often overcome by joy as well. Time spent with Anna was a treasure, one he knew all too well could be taken from him at a moment's notice. And as they returned to the cottage under the late afternoon sun, he experienced that familiar tugging of desire for the woman beside him. Her gloved hand was tucked into the crook of his left arm and she kept pace with him as he walked. Bates could not help but be reminded of all those times she had visited him in prison looking just the same.

Each visit from his wife had been accompanied by a wave of longing, of physical want he could only endure and suffer through. Having been with her once on their wedding night, he had a taste of what it was to love her, to explore her body and find its secrets. But prison ended his physical explorations, leaving far too much to the thoughts the endless hours confinement provided his imagination.

Swallowing painfully, Bates wondered if he wasn't sentencing her to an all too familiar sort of prison by continuing to deny their mutual need for physical intimacy. Certainly, they had gone though such before, after Anna's attack. The fear which lingered for her long after her body recovered had left them both celibate for nearly a year, and he never once voiced complaint, no matter how much the distance between them drove him mad. But gradually, they had worked through her terror until they could find their way back to the place of physical love they had known before.

But now he was the one too traumatized for marital relations. Bates suddenly wondered if Anna had encountered the same back then, the frustrating friction between a body which wanted one thing and a mind which screamed against it.

He pushed aside such thoughts, reminding himself that Anna - this Anna - had never been attacked. She confronted no such memories, nor would she ever have to.

"Did you have a nice day?" he asked her.

"I had a lovely day, Mister Bates."

Anna spoke without guile or regret, the corners of her mouth edging up into a smirk. Her golden hair peeked out from beneath her hat, and the form-fitting day dress covering her corset only reminded him of what lay beneath.

"I'm glad to hear that." He waited a few beats before suggesting, "I can think of something else we could do that might make it even more pleasant, once we return home to the cottage."

Her interest was immediately kindled as she held onto his arm a bit tighter. "And what is that?" she asked.

"Just wait."

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TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: This chapter and the next are rated M.**

 **As always, thank you to my loyal reviewers. While the show may be over, fanfic can go on. ;-)**

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Curiosity plagued her like a cat, but she waited until they were back at the cottage before casting him a knowing glance. But Bates took charge once they arrived home, helping her out of her coat and taking her hat from her once she'd removed it and the pin from her hair. His heart was racing with a mixture of nerves and excitement, but he felt determined to go forward. They bypassed the parlor with Bates leading her directly through the corridor which led to their room at the back of the cottage. Anna said nothing, but her eyebrow raised as his intentions became clear.

"There is something specific I would like to do, if you will let me," he said to her once they reached their private sanctum.

"Of course," Anna responded without hesitation. Her trust amazed him, just like it always did. Despite the anguish and the heartache, despite how he'd left her and only returned when she lay on what very well might have been her death bed… She had complete faith in everything he did, in every way he touched her. Were he rough or unthoughtful of her, she might accept it as just a part of any marriage. And in this realization, Bates fairly despised himself for not having gone down this avenue before. She deserved every pleasure he had at his disposal to give her.

He undressed her with deliberate movements, brushing aside her fingers as she attempted to help him with the buttons on her dress. So seldom was he the one to initiate such matters, she seemed uncertain what to do with herself.

"Allow me?" he asked the second time she tried to assist, and with a nod of ascent, Anna left the remainder of the row to him.

Her clothes were simple but fit her well. While Bates understood that pre-made dresses were becoming more fashionable in the big cities, he vastly preferred the dresses and uniforms which Anna made to her exact measurements, revealing her curves while covering everything beneath. He unlaced the stays of her corset, asking questions perfunctorily, as though he had not gone through such actions a hundred times before. His voice seemed to calm her a bit even as this strange seduction left Anna uncertain and vibrating with tension.

When she was down to only her chemise, he brushed aside the fabric and placed a kiss to her bare shoulder. "I like it when you kiss me," she noted on an exhale.

"Mmmmm," he hummed into her skin, moving down the neckline to put his lips at the base of her neck, where the tiny wisps of hair had escaped her intricately patterned hairstyle, the strands so pale they looked almost white in the bit of afternoon sun peeking through the curtains. "I'm glad," he told her.

She shifted as though to remove her chemise, but he stilled her hands. "No, leave it," he requested, even as he led her to their bed.

The blanket was drawn up over the top and he pressed her down onto it so that her head was on their pillows, giving them plenty of room. Sliding his fingers up the sides of her legs, he pulled off her knickers but left the chemise in place. Anna glanced down at him in confusion, but she did not question.

Pushing up the fabric just above her knees, he parted her legs gently, his hand just a brush against her skin. Anna nearly jumped at the simple contact, and he could tell her heart was racing from the way her breath quickened, punctuated by a gasp. Smiling at the effect he had on her, Bates allowed his palm to settle fully on the inside of her thigh. And he waited.

Her leg was solid and warm, and for a time he simply reveled in the feel of her. Anna was a tiny woman, and although she had all the typical feminine curves, her active occupation kept all her extremities lean and muscular. Her legs in particular were solid, and he tried very hard not to imagine the press of them wrapped around his body.

Slowly, with the utmost care and thought, he slid his open hand along her skin, up until her thigh met her body.

"Is this all right?" he asked her softly.

Anna nodded, although she seemed more nervous than he would have anticipated. It occurred to Bates that they had only been together a few times since marrying, and he had yet to take the time to truly acquaint himself with every inch of her. The fact that she still eyed him with anxious uncertainty left him cross with himself, but he ignored his anger in order to focus completely on her.

In a past life which he could not focus on in that moment, he and Anna had ventured to try any number of intimacies which struck their fancy. But as they had always wanted children, the chief one on they focused was the mundane pleasure with which he was so familiar, and which now he sought to avoid. Of course, he felt certain she would enjoy what he wanted to do on this occasion. At least, he hoped she would.

"Tell me to stop if you don't like anything that I do."

She nodded again, but he waited for a vocalization, perhaps out of habit. After a few seconds passed, she raised her head to look down at him, her slip pooled high over her hips. "I can't imagine there is anything you might do I wouldn't like."

Sighing, Bates said, "Be that as it may, I want you to promise me you will say something if I make you uncomfortable."

Grudgingly, she allowed, "I promise."

Holding her eyes, he allowed his hand to go further up until he touched her most intimate part, and although the contact was the most gentle of grazes, her body immediately tightened like the string on a bow. And a second later, she relaxed purposefully, her head falling back to lay on the pillow.

Taking her reaction as encouragement, he touched her again, applying the right measure of pressure. Her abdomen tightened as she shifted off the mattress, and he reached up to grasp her with his other arm. But as he did so, he peeled back the hem of her chemise until he could see her fully.

Anna was absolutely perfect to his eyes, as beautiful upon close inspection as he could have hoped to remember. He leaned forward, allowing his lips to trail a line down her inner thigh, stopping every few inches to place an open mouthed kiss against her skin which now burned hot against his aching lips. By the time he reached his destination, Anna had clearly worked out what he intended to do.

She leaned up again to look down at him. "Are you sure…" she began nervously, but he knew she questioned the action out of concern for him, not because she disliked the sensations.

"Do you trust me?" he asked her.

Frowning at the question, she said, "Of course I trust you. But what…"

While Anna held no qualms about her husband's love, the thought of him touching her so intimately with his mouth obviously caused her great worry, as though it were something forbidden or unpleasant for him. Forestalling her hesitance, he kissed her sex the same way he had the skin of her leg, finding the exact spot which would make her gasp with pleasure.

Her reaction did not disappoint even as her body responded in spite of her mind. Her hips nearly lifted off the bed even as her head fell back again, and a whimpering whine escaped her lips. The sound was intoxicating, and he knew he wanted to hear every variation of it for as long as he retained that sense.

His intimate kiss provided such an electric sensation that Anna could not quite comprehend what was happening.

"I don't…" she began to say, but her ability to speak was swallowed up by a low moan which began in the back of her throat and died as he began pleasuring her in earnest.

He had heard the act described in some courser circles as something to do to "ready" a woman, but he enjoyed it purely for Anna's reactions. The sounds she made at his ministrations were intoxicating, leaving him aching with need for her. But tonight was about giving her something special and tender, not for him to sate his desire, no matter how insistently his body screamed at him.

Anna clearly enjoyed this act, and she writhed on the bed despite an ingrained need to remain still and quiet. When she seemed ready for something more, he gently added one finger, reveling in her tightness. But then she froze at the sudden intrusion, and Bates immediately paused.

He was about to ask her if what he was doing made her uncomfortable, but Anna answered his silent question, "No, don't stop. I just…"

Anna's voice quivered sensually, rough and deeper than normal. She had pushed herself up again to look down at him, and he noticed that her cheeks had flushed pink while her hair had escaped the confines of its pins and become completely, beautifully disheveled.

"Is it too much?" he asked.

Anna shook her head. "Not too much. But what about you?"

He did not respond that _he_ did not enter into it, not this, not the exquisite alternative to marital intimacies which she allowed him to visit upon her body. Instead, he allowed his touch to answer her question, using his hand to apply more pressure. His own need _had_ become rather insistent, a distraction for him but one he intended to ignore as long as necessary. Watching Anna respond in such a passionate manner enticed him like nothing else, even if her slip still covered most of her body.

Perhaps noticing where his gaze fell, she stopped and reached for the hem of the gown herself. She pulled away from him long enough to be rid of it before laying herself completely bare before him. Bates swallowed as he took in her nakedness, suddenly struck by a need to touch more of her. But his task still lay unfinished.

Her body finally seemed adjusted to the press of him, and he explored her with renewed eagerness. Anna writhed in pleasure beneath him, her hands taking in handfuls of pillow or bedding one minute, only to let go them of the next and reach out for something more solid. Finally, he felt her grip against his scalp, fingers sliding through his hair with great insistence. But she did not pull him against her. Instead, she touched him tenderly, lovingly, with the utmost care despite her distraction.

His awareness of her body with all his senses left him breathless and full of longing, his body tortured by want. Angrily, he ignored his desire, hating that he could not give his wife this pleasure without his own body demanding release. But watching Anna in the throws of such passion was the most beautiful and sensual thing he knew he would ever witness in his lifetime. Some men enjoyed gazing at naked women. Others preferred pictures of a man and woman engaged in the act. But Bates found even more enticement in witnessing Anna's reaction to pleasure. Watching her lose herself over to baser urges stirred him like nothing else.

While Bates had learned long ago to tell when his wife was close to her end, this time she surprised him. Her hands in his hair stilled even as her entire body went momentarily rigid and she let out a strangled cry. She clenched around him, and he did not stop, but kept on as long as possible. Anna panted through it, her name falling from his lips over and over in barely formed syllables, intermixed with wordless sounds of pleasure.

Finally, when she lay back on the bed, completely spent, he gingerly placed one last kiss to her sex before laying on the bed beside her. His desire ached almost painfully, but watching her achieve satisfaction had given him momentary relief from the torment of his body. He would likely need a cold bath in a while to calm the need, but that could wait.

"That was…" Anna stopped, unable to find the right word to describe her experience.

"Did you like it?" he prompted.

"Oh yes." Her enthusiasm was not dulled, not even by fatigue and breathlessness.

"I'm glad."

* * *

TBC


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This chapter is also rated M and is a continuation of the last. Reviews (as always) are very much appreciated.**

* * *

In a past life, he had pleasured her in such a way on many occasions, and over time she had convinced him to let her reciprocate. She did not do it often, especially when they began to try in earnest to conceive a child. The notion of _asking_ her to do so now was unthinkable, despite how much he might secretly want it.

But Anna seemed puzzled that he simply lay down beside her. She could see the physical manifestation of his desire, but that he did not touch her or put his body over hers caused her brow to furrow in confusion. She pulled herself up and moved to sit astride him, but he stopped her.

"Not tonight, Anna," he said, placing his hand against her leg.

"But, you're still-"

She stopped speaking, clearly embarrassed, but her meaning was clear. He was ready for her. And yet he made no move to take her, or to encourage her to take him.

"Tonight is for you," he told her, "not me."

"But why can't it be both?" she pressed.

Her nearness was enticing, and the heat of her body so close to his wore at his defenses. Bates knew he did not have the strength of will to withdraw from her tonight. And he could not put himself inside her if he did not withdraw. Spilling his seed in Anna was now a forbidden act, the most ugly of sins.

But she looked at him with such longing to please, to share with him some of what she had felt. And Bates recalled that he should not deny her the opportunity to give physical love as well as receive it.

"Perhaps if you just touched me," he allowed.

She bit her lip, and he waited. He thought to reassure her by taking her hand and wrapping it over him, but he could not bring himself to do it. In the back of his mind, he flashed back to what Green had done to Anna before, of how he'd forced her... Bates blinked rapidly to clear his vision as he chastised himself for even contemplating pushing her into something she felt uncomfortable doing.

"But you don't have to," he said quickly.

Before he could say more, she had wrapped her hand around him, impossibly gentle. Her palms were not soft skinned like a great lady, but they felt like silk to him, and he jolted at the sudden contact. Instinctively, she echoed the movement of their bodies during in their nights together with the movement of her hand, throwing his mind into blissful chaos.

His eyes closed of their own accord as Bates lost himself in her touch. How did just the touch of her hand on him feel so amazing? Time no longer matter as he enjoyed the feel of her.

"Like this?" she asked, her movements so gentle that they might drive him mad. There was more than a touch of pride in her voice, of excitement she could not or would not hide.

"Yes, like that," he told her with a sigh.

The pressure she applied was not enough to bring him to completion, but Bates did not care. Anna was voluntarily – enthusiastically - touching him, and he simply reveled in the feeling despite the sharp ache of his desire. In a way, he enjoyed the sublime torture of being given pleasure whilst being denied release. It reminded him of those many months he'd been in prison, laying on a cot with his cellmate on the bed overhead. He'd been forced to deny himself then, even as he looked at Anna's picture in the near darkness of the cell, memories of their one night together plaguing his thoughts and leaving him aching for her.

But while he had escaped physical prison in this re-do of his life, Bates realized that he was to experience a different type of punishment. And this time, he was truly guilty of his crime. He was guilty, and yet Anna was still here, still touching him…

He very nearly pushed her away as his guilt and grief overtook him. He had no business accepting the pleasure she offered so freely and openly. Anna deserved a lifetime of happiness, of so many things he could not give her. And yet she settled once again for a crippled old man who had spent years trying to give her a child, only for that child-

The physical sensation of her hand kept his desire going despite the torment of his thoughts, but in his self-castigation, he had not noticed the way she shifted closer to him. Rather, he did not realize what she was about to do until he felt the warmth of her mouth close around him.

He nearly bolted off the bed. He jerked against her mouth, and Anna pulled away. Looking down at her, he saw fear in her eyes.

"Did I hurt you?" she asked.

Sighing painfully, he answered, "No, you did not hurt me, Anna. But you don't have to do that."

"Would you enjoy it if I did?" she asked, her voice innocent but her eyes flashing with mischief. "I liked it when you put your mouth on me."

He could not lie to her. "Yes, I would enjoy it, but it isn't something I would ever ask of you."

"Why not?" she asked in confusion.

He could not hope to articulate social mores or his own thoughts on them at that moment, not with her looking down at him with lust filled eyes and a keen desire to be a good wife.

"Because..." he began, flailing for words but finding them just out of reach. Because he hated the thought of debasing her. Because he didn't deserve what she offered. Because this would require an even greater measure of restraint from him.

"You don't have to ask me," Anna pressed.

Before he could say more, before he could assure her that he enjoyed pleasuring her far more than she would enjoy doing the same for him, she'd taken him into her mouth once again. This time, he restrained himself from jumping, careful not to force her to take more of himself. That Anna would do this for him of her own volition did not surprise Bates – she was such a kind and thoughtful person, this woman he had married. _Too_ kind and thoughtful of others, perhaps. But he was weak and unable to resist her.

She was inexperienced and awkward, but Bates allowed her to explore the act at her own pace and speed. He gave her a few directions, letting her know what felt good and what she should avoid, but she quickly fell into a rhythm. He encouraged her to use her hand as well, to make the task easier, and Anna did as suggested.

The sensations she built in him were overwhelming.

He lost himself in the glorious heat and velvety softness, the sensations overpowering his self-control and transporting him to the heights of passion. Her eagerness eased the guilt which rasped in the back of his head, reminding him that his pleasure was only secondary to Anna's. But she seemed to appreciate the act she was performing, or at least not to despise it, and he had not the restraint to stop her.

She continued to please him, her confidence growing with each groan Bates was unable to suppress. His hands went to her hair in the same way hers had gone to his when he had performed the same service for her, but he was careful not to grab her and pull her down on him despite the growing urge to do so. Deliberately, he threaded his fingers openly along her scalp, the tactile sensation of running his fingers through her hair adding to the sensual experience.

But within moments, he felt that familiar edge approaching. She needed to stop and pull away lest he-

"Anna, wait," he told her.

At first, she must not have heard because she did not even pause. But he repeated himself and Anna stopped what she was doing. She looked up at him, confused. He said, "Just use your hand now." With a tortured groan, he added, "Please?"

Her tiny palm was still wrapped around him, and she did as he requested, but the change in sensation had held his end at bay.

"Harder," he instructed as he put his own hand over hers. And for a moment, it did not matter if he might hurt her. His release was so close, and he craved it so desperately.

Forcing himself to moderate his grip, Bates guided her in the tension and the length of strokes he needed until she seemed prepared to take over, and his hand fell away. When he did climax, Anna knew well enough from their nights together not to stop immediately, but to keep moving as he spent himself completely. Bates groaned loudly into the release, and for a few moments of pure bliss, nothing else entered his mind but the beautiful, naked woman giving him pleasure.

As the last wave overtook him and he began the slow descent down from the heights of desire, he took her hand from him and clasped it in both of his. He brought her fingers up to his lips and kissed them before whispering, "I love you so much."

He would need to clean up soon, but for a moment, he was content to lay on the bed and stare adoringly at his wife.

"I love you too," she told him, settling down on the covers beside him, her free hand cushioned beneath her cheek. But as he watched her, Bates noticed a tightening of the line in her forehead. Something was bothering her.

"What's wrong?" he asked her.

Not bothering to pretend he had mistaken her, Anna asked, "Was that all right? You asked me to stop, at the end..."

He sighed as he understood her curiosity.

"Yes, it was all right. It was wonderful. But I don't want you to do anything for me that you would make you uncomfortable," he told her.

"But that's what you did for me. And it wouldn't have made me uncomfortable-"

"It isn't the same," he responded. Swallowing tightly, he agreed, "It would have felt good, yes. But I don't expect it, and this time, I did not want you to feel as though you had to do that."

"But next time?" she prompted.

She spoke as though the repeat of such pleasures was completely assumed, as though she _wanted_ to do what they had done again. And despite his reservations, he could at least be assured in this that he could not get her with child. They could share marital pleasure without reservation, at least not beyond the forbidden nature of such acts he had grown up with.

He smiled at her, his body settling into the warmth of her next to him and the fatigue which fell upon him like a heavy blanket. "Next time you may do as you wish, Anna. I enjoy it no matter how you touch me."

* * *

TBC


	11. Chapter 11

With a physical compromise finally reached between them, Bates began to relax back into his role as husband while Anna happily embraced their newly discovered positions as unapologetic lovers. But between their work for the Crawley family and long walks down to the cottage at night, they did not have time for long and languid hours of sensual exploration and mutual pleasure. Rather, as energy allowed them, they stole moments from their sleep, either early in the morning or late at night after they'd extinguished the lamps by their bed.

While Bates enjoyed their closeness, he recognized that Anna's stamina could easily outstrip his.

"I'm not a young man anymore," he noted with amusement.

She simply teased back, "You're young enough for my tastes, Mister Bates." And with an exaggerated sigh, she added, "The month in France away from you will seem like forever."

Bates was not looking forward to the long separation either, but he refused to discourage her from going. Accompanying Lady Mary on her honeymoon abroad was the chance of a lifetime and denying it to her to combat his own loneliness was selfish. Besides, if he had survived without seeing her for so long in that dark hell of prison, he could survive while he worked each day at the Abbey. As long as she returned to him, he could survive as long as need be.

"As long as you don't find solace in Mister Molesley's company," he murmured quietly, an edge to his mirth.

"I don't think I could ever find solace with anyone but you," she responded all too easily, then stopped. The sudden silence weighed on him as he thought about the import of what she had said.

He ventured, "But if something were to happen to me..."

"What would happen?" Anna asked, suddenly concerned. He could feel the sudden tension in her shoulders, as though he were about to impart some important prophecy.

"Nothing. I'm only saying... If something _were_ to happen... You are still a young woman, Anna."

Seconds passed uncomfortably before she said with understanding, "And you would want me to marry again."

"Yes."

He had not considered it before, not in such terms. And _want_ was not quite the word he would use for such a circumstance, but he would certainly hope Anna might find happiness, even if it meant finding it with someone else. If he had been able to accept such a notion while he was still alive, he could certainly stand it after his own death.

"Mister Bates," she said, her voice slightly chiding as she used his last name, "what exactly makes you believe I would ever want to marry again?"

With a painful swallow over the lump which had developed in the back of his throat, he suggested, "Companionship. Love. Financial security."

Of course, he hoped Anna would outlive him. Women routinely lived longer than their husbands, and he was years older than her besides. In the natural order, he should always go first. The thought, indeed, the _memory_ of it happening otherwise could not be tolerated. And if they were like so many other married couples, he would leave her with children to provide her comfort and support after his passing. But that future was now foreclosed to them. To her. The least he could allow her is to find love again.

He waited for her to speak, but Anna remained silent for some time. He would have wondered if she had fallen asleep in the darkness beside him, but the tension in her body betrayed her.

Finally, she said, "Had you not come back to Downton after I came down with the flu, I would not have married anyone. I'd have waited for you, however long that was."

There was a silent "if I had lived" in her statement, but he was glad she did not say the words aloud. He still had nightmares about how ill she had fallen.

"And if I had never come back?" He asked it even though he already knew the answer.

Anna said simply, "I'd have waited."

He believed her.

In the comfortable blackness of their bedroom, he could feel the warmth of her body against his, and the thought of losing her shot cold chills down his spine and into his extremities. She would have felt the same, Bates realized. Even given the choice of another man - a better man - she still would have waited for him. Involuntarily, he pulled her closer.

Melting into his embrace, Anna added sweetly, "So you should have no qualms about me and Mister Molesley."

The man could not have been further from Bates' mind.

* * *

As Bates attended the wedding of Matthew and Mary Crawley, he selfishly relished the knowledge that he was not in prison as he had been for this event before. He sat in a pew behind Mrs. Hughes and Mr. Carson, saving a seat on the edge for Anna as he had done before. She hurried in at the last moment before Lady Mary began making her way down the aisle, having helped to arrange veils and pin stray hairs up until the last minute.

He suspected that she might have also been dispatched by the family to keep an eye on Lady Mary and ensure that this time, the wedding would go off as planned. But Bates had no doubts. Unlike the failed prior wedding, this one had a feeling of _rightness_ about it.

Bates had to admit, the Earl's oldest daughter made a beautiful bride. And as she reached the front of the church to face her destined groom, she beamed with more love and affection than perhaps he had ever seen from her. Certainly, she could not have looked so happy were she marrying Mister Napier.

Wondering if every woman looked so beautiful on their wedding day, he glancing over at Anna and found her watching him. Lady Mary was certainly lovely, but she paled in comparison to the blonde-haired Mrs. Bates at his side. Taking her hand in his, he threaded their fingers together before turning his attention back to the ceremony.

While the decor was much as it had been for the earlier failed wedding, the church setting was a study in contrasts with his wedding to Anna – the flowers, the flowing white dress, and so many people around to watch. Despite her assurances to the contrary, Bates would always wonder if Anna regretted not having such a ceremony, and he pondered the subject again now as he glanced over at her once more as she watched the proceedings. He could picture her in Lady Mary's place, the dress and veil adjusted for Anna's smaller height. And in Mr. Matthew's place he attempted to put himself, but the image only ruined his vision. In a perfect world, Anna would have a perfect groom – a young man unburdened by life or lameness.

But as she had told him, no one but him could have occupied that space at the end of the aisle, not for her.

As though she could hear his thoughts, her hand tightened in his, gently squeezing his fingers. Anna smiled at him happily, and he could not deny the contentment he saw in her expression. She was always so free with her love, and it reassured him that he was doing his best by her. In the end, Anna's happiness was all that mattered.

He spent the rest of the wedding focused on her and relishing her joy and their time together. The reception was held at the Abbey, although the occasion seemed less well attended than it would have been had she married Mister Napier. Bates suspected that Lady Mary's reputation had taken a hit after that disastrous affair, but neither she nor Mr. Crawley seemed put out by the lesser turn out.

Afterwards, Bates and Anna said their own goodbyes outside as the newly wed couple bid their final farewells to their guests and prepared to head to the train station. The luggage had already been packed and arranged on the back of the car, and Molesley waited in the front seat looking both anxious and excited.

Bates risked a chaste kiss with his wife, but Anna did not mind. The weeks without her would feel long and unbearable, but he truly wanted her to go and have new experiences.

"I'll send a postcard," she promised.

"Just have fun. And you can tell me all about it when you return home."

* * *

"It will be a good match for them," the Earl said as his valet assisted him in undressing for bed late that evening. "Mister Napier was a good man, but even I could tell her heart wasn't in it."

Bates silently nodded in agreement.

His Lordship sighed. "I wish Lady Sybil could have been here."

The man did not often lament the absence of his youngest daughter, now married to Mr. Branson and living in Dublin. While they had made the trip for Lady Mary's failed wedding to Mr. Napier, they had been unable to return so soon for the ultimately successful marriage to Mr. Matthew.

Not for the first time, Bates thought about the death of Lady Sybil and how frightfully it had mirrored Anna's eventual fate. He tried to remember the circumstances Anna had written to him about it so long ago while he was in prison. While the medical name escaped him, he recalled that everything had seemed well at first, only for Lady Sybil to take a turn for the worse after her child was born. Bates also knew that Lady Grantham had blamed her husband for their daughter's death, for not heeding Dr. Clarkson's warnings over the knighted specialist whose advice Lord Grantham had relied upon.

The more Bates considered it, the more he felt compelled to do everything he could to change Lady Sybil's future. He still remembered the guilt which clung to him following Lady Grantham's unfortunate miscarriage, especially as he had witnessed his Lordship's grief. He had no wish to see the man go through that again. But quite apart from the family's agony, Bates was not certain that he could live with himself if he did not do his utmost to try and stop it. In particular, the circumstances hit him so personally that he might have felt the same even if Lady Sybil were a mere stranger. But she wasn't. She was a wonderful and much loved person.

His thoughts had taken him away, and he was only transported back to his employer's dressing room at the sound of the man's voice.

"It is a shame you had to be parted so soon after your own marriage," Lord Grantham noted with a frown. "I really should have convinced Matthew to take you with them instead of Molesley so you wouldn't have to be parted."

Bates did not respond for a moment as he turned his mind away from Lady Sybil back to the subject at hand. While there had been some question of whether Mr. Molesley would be retained as valet for the trip given Mr. Matthew's desire to live "a simpler life," as he called it, in the end he was to accompany them to France at the insistence of Lady Mary who believed they at least needed someone to arrange for the bags on their trip.

Finally confronted with the thought of a month without Anna sleeping in the bed beside him, Bates had begun to doubt his own steadfast belief that Molesley should go. But he responded, "I believe the expression is 'absence makes the heart grow fonder,' milord."

Lord Grantham smiled, although there was a dimness behind his eyes. "It does at that."

They fell into a companionable silence for a time as Bates finished helping his employer prepare for bed. In many ways, it was the most enjoyable part of his work day as he knew that when he was finished, he would be able to meet Anna downstairs and walk with her to their home. But for the next several weeks, no one would be waiting to greet him and his walk must be undertaken alone. He already knew that the cottage would feel too quiet and lonely without his wife there to brighten it.

And yet, he had not the worries that Lord Grantham carried on his shoulders. He had glimpsed them now and then throughout the day, hidden behind a facade of real pride and projected calm. It was only a matter of time before the truth became common knowledge, that the future of Downton was balanced on a precipice following his Lordship's failed investments. While Bates longed to offer the other man reassurance, he could not. In that moment, they were a mirror image of misery in their waiting.

* * *

TBC


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: As always, reviews are appreciated. My eternal gratitude to those who continue to give me feedback on this story as it sails into uncharted waters.**

* * *

Bates did not waste his late evening hours pining for his wife while she was away. At least, he did not do so _every_ night. Instead, he worked around the cottage, tackling small projects which he knew needed to be addressed. A few items still needed to be unpacked and found homes in their small abode, along with some repairs the previous tenants had let go too long.

And when the evenings grew quite late, Bates settled into bed to read, which was nothing new. However, after much consideration on the issue, he had purchased a book which he hoped might help him with the continuing fear of getting Anna with child by accident. He had found a copy quite by chance at a bookshop in Ripon, although he had been unable to meet the bookseller's gaze when he paid for it.

 _Married Love_ by Marie Stopes.

It was the same book he'd found in Anna's possession in his past life, the one she claimed to be holding for Lady Mary. The memory brought him pain as he thought of the silly quarrel with his past wife and the fact that he hadn't believed her. How could he have imagined Anna would ever lie to him? Sometimes those tendrils of guilt wrapped around his heart and squeezed it until he felt breathless.

But for the past week he had read a chapter of the book every night before sleep took him, allowing himself time to digest the contents. Unlike what he originally thought, the volume was not simply about how women could avoid pregnancy. Indeed, while he had purchased it for exactly that information, it strayed into the subject but seldom.

Rather, Ms. Stopes' book was primarily written to educate husbands on how to please their wives as lovers, although he greatly appreciated the author's scientific point of view. With a mind suddenly full of doubts as to his adequacy, Bates read the pages studiously, pausing often to consider important points made by the author. He thought back to not only his intimacies with Anna in this life, but marital relations in his past as well. Anna had never expressed any disappointment in their time together, but he could not help but wonder.

As each day passed and Bates spent his hours working at the Abbey during the day, he turned over the author's remarks in his mind, taking them as they had been intended. Rather than feel affronted at the thought of being a bad or boorish husband, he focused on what he might do to improve Anna's experiences in their marriage. In the end, his pride mattered little. What he wanted was for her to enjoy their marriage and to find as much fulfillment as he could provide.

One subject which recurred throughout the book was one he had already internalized – male restraint.

Anna's pleasure had always been a priority above his own, but the book emphasized that point in particular. In light of the restricted nature of their intimate relations, Bates took to heart what the book had to say and made it a point to enact some of the suggestions put forth by the writer.

Much to his surprise, it also warned severely against total abstinence within marriage. Some husbands might hold up their wives as paragons of innocence they feared defiling with sex, Ms. Stopes seemed to point out, but treating them so could only hurt both members of the marriage. Besides, she supposed regular relations to be important not only for the emotional foundation of a relationship, but also for the woman's own health.

This last part in particular caught his attention.

Somewhat ironically, the book turned out to be fairly undetailed regarding the specific knowledge he had been seeking: contraceptives. But the writing did leave Bates to ponder many things. Was it in Anna's best interests for them to continue with the mode of physical intimacy they had begun to explore before her departure? Or should they return to the manner of lovemaking which required such concentration and care from him to keep her from becoming with child?

That last question was answered by the author herself, who explained the suffering of women who were deprived entirely of a man's essence. He could not comprehend how a _lack_ of such a thing might harm a perfectly healthy woman, but Ms. Stopes wrote with such authority that he felt uncomfortable doubting her word. Of course, that left him with few options except consulting with a doctor. He was hesitant to do so given the sensitive nature of his concerns.

But once again, he knew he had to sacrifice his own dignity for his wife's sake.

* * *

"I'm sure you miss her," Mrs. Hughes noted with a sympathetic smile. While he said little at meals with his wife gone, she did her best to reach out to him and include him in conversations.

Choosing not to point out the understatement in her observation, Bates simply agreed, "Yes, very much."

"Well, she'll be back in a fortnight, along with Lady Mary and Mister Crawley."

"And Mister Molesley," Carson added, his tone betraying the inner eye roll which he was forced to keep to himself.

"I wonder if Mister Crawley will keep him on now as a permanent valet," the housekeeper wondered.

At this, Thomas suddenly found some interest in the conversation. But Miss O'Brien was the one to comment, "I shouldn't see why. Not when Thomas has already applied for the position."

"Oh, but Mister Molesley has experience as both a valet and a butler. And he's a war hero besides," Mrs. Hughes told her firmly.

Bates smirked to himself as he added, "And he's been in service since Thomas was still tied to his mother's apron strings."

The footman leveled him with a steely gaze as he responded, "Length of service doesn't necessarily indicate quality. If it did, I imagine I'd have your position."

More amused by Thomas' comment than annoyed, Bates responded, "Well, at least you are beginning to recognize quality when you see it, then. That's a good beginning."

He knew he'd won the verbal spar when Thomas clammed up and glared at him even more. Carson quickly steered the conversation into another direction, although Bates could feel the footman's angry gaze on him through the rest of the meal.

In a way, that bit of normalcy was comforting.

* * *

During Anna's absence, Bates had little to occupy himself during the evenings at the cottage besides books. He thought of her often and could sometimes hear her voice calling to him from their bedroom. At night when he woke in the empty bed without her, he had to remind himself that she was still alive. She would be home in only a couple of weeks. A couple of days.

The nightmares returned in her absence, leaving him shaking in an empty bed when he awoke at night, his arm reaching for her in the darkness only to find her place cold and empty. Sometimes in his dreams he was given a choice. He could sacrifice himself to save Anna's life. And while he would never hesitate to do so, in the dreams that decision always felt portentous and heavy, as though he truly had to consider it.

And when he woke, he had to remind himself that Anna was still there, only far away. He would not be alone for much longer.

During the same period, as his renewed desire for his wife made itself known in her absence, he worried increasingly about her becoming pregnant. While she'd had trouble conceiving before, she was younger now and without the trauma from her attack. Would that make a difference? Either way, the risk was too much. He had to find a solution.

Growing increasingly desperate to obtain better information on contraceptives, Bates finally resorted to the one place he knew would have the knowledge he needed – Dr. Clarkson. He visited the hospital on his half day, making pleasantries with Mrs. Crawley outside the doctor's office while waiting. Considering that Anna was with her son and Lady Mary in France, they for once had a more common bond than one would think, and Bates remembered how pleasant the woman could be.

"And how do you find married life?" Mrs. Crawley asked conversationally. She had a way about her that appealed to Bates. While she was not of his social class, certainly, Mrs. Crawley was not so high as the family at the Abbey either. And she did not put on airs but talked with the likes of farmers and tradesmen equally.

But her question made him pause for a moment in confusion before he realized that she did not know about Vera, did not realize he had been married before. Few must have known that his marriage to Anna was his second foray into the institution. While his former wife had previously made him infamous through his arrest for her murder, that had not occurred this time. Thankfully.

"Every day with Anna in my world is one worth living," he answered her truthfully.

She smiled pleasantly at his response and mused over her own early days of marriage to her husband, oh so many years ago. It was clear that she still loved the man even though she'd been a widow for some time, and Bates could well appreciate her feelings.

"I hope you aren't feeling poorly today," she mused aloud, taking in his otherwise hale and hearty appearance.

"No, not poorly at all," Bates answered. "I simply wished to speak to the doctor regarding... a private matter."

She nodded in understanding and moved on to continue with her work. A few moments later, the doctor called him into his office.

"What can I do for you today, Mister Bates?"

With the war over, Dr. Clarkson had returned to his civilian clothes once more and while a few soldiers still remained at the hospital, like at Downton, most had returned home. Everything was steadily returning to normal, as though the war had never happened.

Bates took a breath to steady his nerves before beginning with his request. It was not an easy subject for him to discuss.

Finally, he managed, "As you may know, I was recently wed."

The doctor nodded perfunctorily, the wedding of two servants not of great importance to him but something he may have heard in passing. "Congratulations," he said.

"Thank you." He took another pause, thinking. "Mrs. Bates and I have decided that we do not wish to have children."

This statement caused the doctor to raise his eyebrow in surprise. He suddenly felt the need to come up with some mundane justifications for the choice. "With our careers in service and Mrs. Bates getting on in years..."

"Women do have children well into their thirties, Mister Bates," Clarkson pointed out gently, and he was reminded of Anna's very youthful appearance. For a moment, he could not even recall how old she was in this time.

"I know, but..." Bates felt light headed discussing the matter, but his conscience required truthfulness. "I am also very concerned about her health. I do not wish to be talked out of the decision, doctor. I only wish to consult with you about what options might be available to us."

Without further preamble, he removed Ms. Stopes' book from his pocket. "I found this very useful for certain matters, but it is not as... detailed as I would have expected."

It was clear that the book was familiar to the doctor as he nodded at the sight of it. "No," he agreed, "but Ms. Stopes did write another book which may be more what you are looking for. It is called _Wise Parenthood_ , but due to the controversial nature of her writings, it may be more difficult to find."

 _Wise Parenthood._ Bates had no notion that a second book even existed.

"You do know that there is always abstinence," Clarkson pointed out. "There are other measures to avoid conception, but that is the only full-proof one."

The valet tried not to grimace at the suggestion. Candidly, he confessed, "Were it only me involved in such matters, perhaps that would be enough. But Mrs. Bates... She is a young and vibrant woman. I think... She would both want and deserve more."

Speaking so indelicately about his wife was difficult, but he had to be truthful. And his own embarrassment was well worth sacrificing in this matter.

The doctor pressed his lips together for a moment. "If you will permit me, I will see if Mrs. Crawley has a copy of Ms. Stopes' other book. She has been involved with a group in York of late, working with fallen women, and it is likely very familiar to her."

Bates nodded. "Of course."

Clarkson left him alone in his office for a moment, and Bates found himself accompanied by a vast array of doubts. Was he doing the right thing, or would this trip for medical advice only humiliate him and Anna both? Perhaps there had been other ways to go about procuring this information, but seeking it from a doctor seemed prudent.

A few minutes later, the doctor returned with Mrs. Crawley following behind him. She smiled at Bates and took the other free seat across from the doctor's desk.

"I understand you're interested in information on contraceptives," she said brightly.

Bates' heart fell into his stomach at the same time that his face burned with mortification. Had the ground opened up and swallowed him, he would have felt only relief.

But he had come here for one reason: to make better choices for Anna, to protect her and her health. For those motives, he could endure the humiliation of such questions.

"Yes."

"Well, the book you are seeking has excellent information in that regard. The author goes to great lengths to suggest which methods are superior and in what respects. But I can tell you now that the method she recommends the highest, the cervical cap, will require the active participation of your wife."

Mrs. Crawley smiled at him, and he breathed deeply to combat the burning sensation at the back of his neck.

"I had not intended to mislead her," he said severely.

"Of course not." The woman scoffed at the notion. "But unlike other methods like sheaths, this particular item must be used by the woman."

He had an idea of what she mentioned, having seen such a 'cunning little device' in his previous iteration of this life. But that had belonged to Lady Mary, and he had put much of what he read about it out of his mind.

"Does it hurt?' he asked, suddenly wondering as he pictured asking Anna to use the item.

"I'm told it is very comfortable once in place," she said, with perhaps more enthusiasm than he could imagine any woman displaying regarding such a subject.

Bates tried to think of something to say, a question to ask, but he found that everything escaped him when he was faced with discussing the topic with Mrs. Crawley instead of Dr. Clarkson. Thankfully, she took pity on him. "There are other options as well, including sheaths, which are worn by the man. But they can be uncomfortable, and they may slip or break."

She spent a little time explaining to him the advantages and disadvantages of each contraceptive available before finishing, "And I'm sure Doctor Clarkson has already informed you that the most effective method is complete abstinence."

The way she said it was a bit teasing, of the doctor rather than himself, like one might with an old friend. But Dr. Clarkson's expression betrayed more than a little discomfort at her tone.

Not looking at Mrs. Crawley, the doctor confirmed, "I have. But in this instance, I would agree that the cervical cap is supposed to be effective. As long as Mrs. Bates adheres it properly and takes care to maintain it, the device can last for many months. My understanding is that women can forget they are even in place, and neither party can tell it is there during intimate relations."

Once he was finished speaking, Dr. Clarkson met the gaze of Mrs. Crawley, who betrayed a grin despite herself. After a long moment, she told Bates, "I will see if I can get you a copy of _Wise Parenthood,_ which has in writing some of the things we discussed and also specific instructions for the cap. But you should be able to purchase one at a chemist shop."

Bobbing his head at her, Bates said quickly, "Thank you, Mrs. Crawley. And you, Doctor Clarkson."

He sought escape as soon as he could, rather mortified by the way the conversation had gone but glad of the information he had obtained. And as he left the room, he thought he caught a glimpse of something pass between the two medical professionals, something which was more personal than he would have anticipated.

A few days later, a parcel arrived for him at Downton through the mail. Inside of it was the book, _Wise Parenthood_ , and a note from Mrs. Crawley indicated that she had found him a copy he could keep as long as he had need of it. She also wished him luck, and he found her genuine sentiments more reassuring than anything else.

TBC


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: The show may be over, but there is still fanfic to be written. Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated.**

* * *

Purchasing a cervical cap from the chemist was an exercise in humility Bates did not relish, but his severe expression did much to discourage questions from the man behind the counter. While he was there, he went ahead and bought some silk sheaths as well based on Mrs. Crawley's counsel. If nothing else, he would be prepared if Anna was hesitant about the cap.

"I take it you are married?" the chemist asked Bates with a quizzical and critical expression.

The valet nodded but would not look up to meet his eyes.

"I am." The pause after his affirmance felt interminable, so he added, "My wife is... of a delicate condition."

He did not elaborate further, although he was prepared to mention having a doctor's recommendation if the chemist said anything further. But the man frowned suspiciously, tendered the items in exchange for his money, and Bates took the plain brown bag, careful not to drop it. As he left the shop, he thought about Anna having once purchased such an item for Lady Mary and the embarrassment she must have felt.

The instructions provided with the cap were complicated, but the book was helpful in explaining both its insertion and removal. Anna's... cooperation was not only necessary, but she would need to use the item herself. While Bates realized in hindsight that he should have spoken with her before purchasing the device, he decided that if they were to attempt such a method, he wanted to have it all ready at the cottage. He was not sure how she would react when he broached the topic, but he needed to be as prepared as possible in these matters.

While he knew that she believed him about what had happened in his past, Anna still gave every impression that she humored him for his sake rather than her own. Bates was not entirely sure how far her patience would extend, if it would encompass an invasive device which seemed like it had to be far more uncomfortable than Mrs. Crawley had led him to believe.

But in the end, Anna's health was his only concern. If she was reticent to use the cap, he had the sheaths as well, even if they were an inferior choice. And as Dr. Clarkson had so pointed out, abstinence was always an option.

As he lay in bed awake at night, ticking off the hours in his mind until he wife returned from France, Bates had trouble reconciling the notion of denying intimacy with Anna. His hands itched to hold her, to feel the warmth of her body against his skin. He longed to hear her laugh in the darkness along with the sweetness of her voice as she said his name. When it was very quiet, he could conjure the sounds of her with his mind, but they were a pale approximation for reality. Her absence had indeed made his heart grow fonder, but his body ached for her as well.

And Bates worried for her, being so far away without his presence or protection in a strange city full of foreigners. This Anna did not have the fear his other Anna might have felt, although he knew she was cautious and intelligent. While he could not wrap her in wool and hide her away from the world, he still feared for her in a way only he could do, his mind full of his failure to locate Alex Green and the knowledge that the man was still out there somewhere.

Fortunately, Anna's promise to send a postcard was not idle, and he received it two days before her return home. Rather than depicting the Eiffel Tower, as he surely thought it would, the front bore a picture of the Arc De Triomphe. He smiled at the picture of the impressive structure, imagining her purchasing it from a sidewalk vendor or small shop near the landmark itself. In his mind's eye, she was thinking of him as she gazed up at the monument.

As Bates considered the postcard, he recalled having read that the site would house France's Tomb of the Unknown Soldier from the Great War. And for a moment, he wondered if Anna had sent him this particular postcard with that in mind. He would have to ask her - in only two days!

The back of the postcard contained her familiar handwriting - his name and the address at Downton. And below that, she had scrawled in tidy letters, _"I miss you dearly."_

* * *

The night before Anna's return, Bates barely slept. His anticipation played tricks with his mind, leaving him confused and sick when he did wake from the few odd hours of rest allowed him. He did not remember his dreams when he awoke, but knew that they must be frightening to cause his heart to race so. Giving up on sleep, he went out to the parlor to read for a time by lamplight, and to make certain everything was ready for Anna's return home.

He had dusted and cleaned in her absence, hoping she would appreciate not having to double up her work when she came back. But in the early hours of the morning, the dark shadows in the room seemed to take on an eerie quality as Bates eased himself into a chair by the coals of the dying fire.

Their cottage had not felt like a home since Anna had departed. Rather, it reminded him of the months when his wife had left him unexpectedly to return to the Abbey. He had not known it then, but his poor, tortured Anna had left him to deal with the consequences of what Green had done to her. She had left him so he might not find out.

Those memories still burned his consciousness, thinking of all she had been through before. Not again, he determined. She would not suffer so unnecessarily a second time, not if he had to do _everything_ in his power to ensure her safety.

Sometime before he dawn, he did fall asleep, this time leaned back into the chair by the fire he had kindled, a book left abandoned on his lap. His dreams reflected his waking fears, twisting his thoughts into images with the power to make a grown man cower in abject terror. When he finally woke with the first tendrils of dawn sneaking through the curtains, lighting up the room, Bates remembered only seeing her, a ghostly visage with expectant eyes and a questioning gaze. She seemed to ask him without speaking, "What are you going to do? How do you plan to succeed?"

"I'll do whatever I must," he told the empty room as stray sunbeams peeked in.

* * *

Anna returned a day before Lady Mary and Mister Matthew, traveling by train with their luggage so they could arrive the next day by automobile. It was to be a surprise for his Lordship, Bates quickly learned. Eager to see his wife after so many weeks apart, Bates met her at the train station, arriving early with the chauffeur so he would not miss her on the road.

As she stepped out of the third class compartment, clad in traveling clothes complete with a new hat and gloves, Bates took in a sharp breath. She seemed no different from before, and for a moment he could imagine she had been away in London for the night rather than gone for a month. But her skin seemed a bit more sun-darkened than when she'd set out, and her smile even more brilliant than ever. Anna had always been beautiful, but on this day she looked particularly lovely to his lonely eyes, starved from the sight of her. He stepped forward to greet his wife with as much excitement as he felt when she'd met him outside the prison a lifetime past.

"Welcome home," he said before letting their lips meet in a brief kiss, their yearning making it nearly unsuitable for such a location with others around them to see.

Anna grinned at him in delight as she replied, "It is good to be home, Mister Bates."

Behind her, Molesley emerged from the third class compartment as well, although he looked chastened at interrupting the reunion between the other servants.

"Mister Molesley," Bates said to the man with a nod of the head.

"Mister Bates."

He fought against the natural wave of jealousy which reared its ugly head as he thought of the man traveling with his wife throughout a romantic foreign country. It was not jealousy, precisely, as he did not resent Mr. Molesley. Besides, any inclination towards that ugly emotion was soothed by the way Anna looked at him. She put her hand on his arm in a possessive way, easing the tension from his body. While Anna tended to be more free with her feelings, on this occasion, he could read them especially well. Judging by her expression, the sight of him was like an oasis to a man dying in the desert. That was how he felt at seeing her, at least.

After helping Anna and Molesley arrange for the Crawleys' luggage to be taken out to the car, they had a brief discussion on who should ride back to the house as there was only enough room for two in the front seat of the car. After some dissembling, Molesley finally offered to walk, to allow the married couple some time to catch up, and Anna thanked him heartily. None of them mentioned riding in the empty back seat as it would fly in the face of all propriety.

"How did that go?" Bates asked her as they climbed into the car, with Molesley out of earshot.

"He was a perfect gentleman. You have no reason to be jealous, Mister Bates," she gently scolded.

"I have every reason to be jealous," he remarked with a smile, "but at the moment, I am too happy to see you to care about any of that."

She grinned at his cheekiness and once again put her hand into the crook of his arm. She fit there as though they had both been designed for exactly such a touch and Bates reveled in the warm feel of her. Judging by the redness in her cheeks, she shared his happiness at the homecoming - and his anticipation of being more free with his words and emotions later.

But there was a stiffness about her as well, something barely noticeable even to him, as though she hid it just beneath the surface of her thoughts. Her hand clutched his arm almost too tightly, and while he wanted to ask her then and there, Bates knew he could not. He would have to wait until they were safely home and alone.

 _TBC_


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: Thank you for all the reviews to the last chapter. I'm pleased people seem to still be enjoying this story. As always, I greatly appreciate feedback.**

* * *

Anna promised to speed through unpacking Lady Mary's luggage so that she would have the entirety of the evening off to spend with her husband. He waited dutifully for her downstairs, having arranged for Carson to undress his Lordship on this one night so that he could be with Anna. It had actually been upon His Lordship's insistence that the change was made as he noted Bates' excitement at his wife's return. Bates had felt hesitant to give up the duty, but Carson assumed the responsibility without complaint, murmuring only that he _had_ dressed Lord Grantham in the valet's absence before.

Bates and his wife walked to the cottage together with him carrying Anna's suitcase in his free hand. Along the way, she described the sights she'd seen and the experiences of traveling in a foreign country. But the way she spoke seemed perfunctory and altogether too calm for a homecoming.

Hoping she was simply tired, he asked jokingly, "Did you eat frogs' legs and dance the can-can?"

"No," she said, not quite looking at him as she walked. He waited for her to say more, to tease him about the French garter she'd purchased on one of her outings in the city. But Anna was eerily quiet.

"What is the matter?" he asked finally.

Anna studiously kept her eyes downcast, not meeting his, and her silence built in him a growing terror. What had happened in France?

"It's nothing," she managed finally, barely breathing out the words.

"What is nothing?"

"I don't want you to overreact."

At this he stopped dead in his tracts, and Anna did the same, although as she turned towards him, her eyes were at his feet rather than meeting his gaze.

"Please tell me," he begged her. The suitcase suddenly felt very heavy indeed, and he greatly desired to be back at their cottage.

She took a deep breath before answering, and finally said in a rush, "I was mugged when we were in London. Yesterday, before we traveled home on the train."

Bates did not know whether to feel relieved or horrified at her confession. She was still standing in front of him looking solid and uninjured, but her countenance was so off that he wondered what might have been done to her.

"Were you hurt?" he asked, setting down her suitcase so that he could touch her face. But Anna turned her head at the last minute, betraying discomfort at his closeness.

His hand fell away as he waited for her response.

"No, not badly," Anna managed, her eyes only meeting his chest.

When she glanced around at the openness surrounding them, Bates realized that she probably longed to be home in the safety of their cottage. Without further ado, he picked up her suitcase again and they made haste to return home.

It wasn't until they were seated in their parlor that Anna seemed to relax enough to say more regarding her misadventure.

"I had visited Trafalgar Square and was walking towards Piccadilly Circus. It was the last outing allowed to us, so I decided to see the city a little. I haven't been many times to London, you know. Mister Molesley went with me, but we became separated in the crowd. I stopped in a side street to see if I could spot him, and before I knew what was happening, a man was brandishing a knife and demanding my valuables."

She paused here, and Bates wondered if a cup of tea wouldn't help steady her nerves. But he waited to offer, not wanting to interrupt her telling of the experience in London.

"I didn't have much with me, just a few shillings as spending money. I wanted to buy you something at one of the bookshops. But I gave it all over without a second thought. I was so frightened. The knife just seemed so large. And sharp."

"You did right," Bates told her quietly, relieved that she hadn't attempted to thwart the villain and retain her possessions.

"But that isn't the worst of it," she went on. For the first time since returning to the cottage, she risked a look at his face, and their eyes met for the briefest moment.

Bates waited, his stomach coiled into knots as he wondered what might have happened. Had the man hurt Anna, had he cut her?

"He took my wedding ring."

It took a moment for him to realize that what she said was the worst of the story she had been holding onto, and even longer to comprehend that she was waiting anxiously for his reaction. She looked at him as though he would be angry or disappointed or-

"Oh, Anna," he sighed.

They sat next to each other on the small sofa, separated by a short space that suddenly felt like a wide gulf. In an instant, he had bridged that gap, reaching for her gloved hands. He realized now why she hadn't removed them at the door along with her hat and coat. Gently, he peeled away each leather covering until he found the unnaturally bare ring finger on her left hand, devoid of its usual augmentation.

When he looked up at her face, he saw that tears had begun to make tracks down her cheeks.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered. "I shouldn't have let him take it."

"I'm only glad that you're all right," he said sincerely, pulling her close. The ring was inconsequential compared to her. "I can replace it," he reminded her. "I cannot replace you."

"But it isn't the same," she began, her voice losing the battle to her emotions as she buried her face against her husband's chest. He felt her arms wrap around his back as he held her against him, closing his eyes as he reminded himself that she was now safe and sound.

"You are what is important, Anna," he told her softly, the statement coming from deep within him. "You are all that matters. As long as you weren't harmed, nothing else is of consequence."

The mugger could have taken every possession they both owned, Bates knew, and still he would feel the same so long as Anna was not hurt. But even as he acknowledged that truth, he burned with a growing guilt at not having been there to protect her. Had he been at her side, the mugger likely wouldn't have targeted her. But she'd been a woman alone, and that image instantly brought back flashes of Mr. Green.

"I should have been there to protect you," he said, remembering the times Anna had suggested he accompany Mr. Crawley on the trip instead of Molesley. And each time, he had refused for Molesley's sake. But now he wished he hadn't. He wished that he had gone, for no other reason than to be there to keep Anna safe.

"How could you have known?"

With this question, she pulled away from him just enough to see his face. And in her eyes he read one question. _Did he know?_

She didn't say the words aloud, but he could see them in her eyes so clearly. The doubt cut through him as sharply as that mugger's knife would have done and it felt twice as painful.

"I had no notion that any such thing would happen to you," Bates told her sincerely. "Had I thought for a moment you might not be completely safe, I'd have moved heaven and earth to accompany you."

Surely with a large man standing beside her, Anna would have been safe. And where had Mr. Molesley been, if he was to have accompanied Anna on the errand? Why hadn't the valet been there to protect her?

Bates he knew the other valet did not deserve his anger, but it flowed through him nevertheless, making tracks down useless alleys only to dead end where it always did. _He_ was to blame. _He_ should have been there to protect his wife.

"So..." Anna began quietly, "this didn't happen before?"

Shaking his head miserably, he responded, "No, not at all."

He thought about Anna's visit to him in prison after the trip to France, of how she had been a sight for sore eyes after a longer than usual absence. Bates recalled how he'd felt starved for her company and that hearing about the sights and experiences of France had been little in comparison to the few minutes he was allowed in her company.

"I'd have warned you if I'd known," he stated. He wouldn't have let her go. He wouldn't have let her go alone.

Anna's eyes shone brightly with fresh tears she tried valiantly not to shed.

"Even if it changed the future?" she asked.

Part of him wanted to confess that he did not give one damn about the future beyond what it held for the woman in front of him. But that was not entirely true. He cared about the Crawleys and their fates. He still found tendrils of guilt would tug at him for all the young men who lost their lives in the war. But Anna was still at the heart of everything. Her well being meant more to him than anything else, and there was no future without her.

"The only thing which matters is that you are safe and happy," he told her, cupping her cheeks between his hands. She was his to protect, and he had once more failed her. It would not happen again.

Anna smiled at him timidly, his words obviously touching her. "He didn't hurt me," she assured him. "He was rough when I hesitated to give over the ring, but he didn't cut me."

Her right hand automatically went to the pale circle of skin where her ring should have been on her left hand. Bates once more took both of her hands in his.

"I will buy you another ring," he promised her.

Her lips forming a pout, Anna said with remorse, "I liked that ring."

He thought for a moment, unsure how to solve the problem. Finally, he said slowly, "Then I'll go to London and search the shops to see if it has been pawned by the mugger."

It would be difficult to find the one which belonged to her as most rings looked alike - simple gold bands. But it would not hurt to look, and-

"Don't be silly," Anna told him, her face now betraying the smallest of smiles. "You can't search all of London for one ring."

If it would make her happy, he'd search the entire Earth for her ring and look for the man who'd dared to hold a knife on her besides. But even Bates had to admit how unlikely he would be in succeeding. Plus her spirits already seemed improved at his willingness to act on her behalf.

"How was the rest of your trip?" he asked her, hoping it was not completely overshadowed by the frightening events in London. "Did you see the Eiffel tower?"

"Yes," she answered with a nod, "Although I was too frightened to go to the top. Mister Molesley and I stood at the bottom and admired it from below."

Again with Mister Molesley's presence. Again, that pang of jealousy hit him and Bates pushed back the possessiveness which could so easily consume him. Apparently he had been ready enough to tour France with Anna but not to protect her from a mugging in broad daylight in the middle of London.

"We did not go exploring much together," Anna said, likely reading his mind, "but there were a few days he tagged along with me because he was too nervous to go out on his own."

"Then you were very kind to accompany him."

"I rather wished you were there. We could have had our picture taken together in front of the Louvre."

As it was, they only had the one picture together, the one taken in the park after their wedding ceremony in Ripon. Anna had it framed before she left for France and it adorned one shelf in their home. She had placed beside it a few other photographs, including one she had found from his army days when she cleaned out his mother's house.

"Did you get my postcard?" she asked.

Bates nodded. "I did. But I'm glad you're home."

Their eyes met, and he felt an almost physical tug, as though they were connected by impossibly thin string unseen by the naked eye. That string had gotten finer and more elastic during Anna's travels, but now that she was home, it sprang back, pulling them together with an undeniable force.

He put one hand to her jaw as he kissed her. Anna's lips met his with equal fervor, and for a time they lost themselves to the joy of a much anticipated homecoming.

* * *

 _TBC_


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: Sorry for the delay in getting out this chapter. Real life has been rather time consuming as of late. For anyone who is concerned, this chapter is rated M.**

 **Reviews are wonderful and greatly appreciated.**

* * *

As they prepared for bed that night, Bates thought he saw a flicker of something in his wife's eyes - anticipation, perhaps. And as much as he relished the thought of reacquainting himself with Anna on a physical level after such a long absence, he could tell by the way her eyelids drooped and she was unable to suppress several yawns that she was far too tired for such activities. He too felt exhausted as well as emotionally drained by his worry during their earlier conversation.

After blowing out the candle on his side of the bed, he burrowed under the covers until he found the warm texture of her nightgown. With one arm, he gently encircled her middle and with her assistance, he pulled her firmly to him until her hair tickled his nose. Anna sighed in contentment at their closeness and he felt the tension in her begin to dissipate.

As they fell asleep together, Bates tried not to think about the box in one of his drawers on the other side of the room nor about what it contained. Having the device at the cottage felt sordid and dirty without telling Anna, but it was not the right time to bring up the subject.

The next day brought the return of Lady Mary and her new husband in their equally new automobile, a sleekly designed car which was much talked of by Lord Grantham upstairs.

"He wanted to surprise me," the Earl told Bates with a mixture of amusement and suppressed anxiety. It was not because of the car itself, of course, but what it represented.

It was clear they had still not quite sorted out the financial matters which threatened Downton, and his employer's mounting concern left the valet with growing distress. Besides which, Bates already hated the car in question as he knew it would be the vehicle to bring about Mr. Crawley's death.

"Not all surprises are welcome," he murmured in response.

Lord Grantham glanced at him, perhaps sensing something was wrong. But he would not ask. Instead, he inquired, "Did Mrs. Bates enjoy the trip to Paris?"

"She did, milord. Very much."

He had no need to mention the mugging in London as it would only upset his employer. As for the rest of it... there was no way to explain.

"Good, good," the Earl said distractedly, his mind already turning to other places.

Bates wondered if he was thinking about having to give up Downton and move the family. While he had known about the man's troubles during this time before, he had not been present to witness them. Seeing for himself his employer and friend's concerns without hearing the reason aloud was both frightening and left him feeling completely powerless once again.

"Is everything all right, milord?" he ventured finally, when the man's silence and distant gaze stretched on too long.

Finally, his Lordship sighed, his expression slipping to reveal that indeed, everything was _not_ all right.

"I've made some mistakes, Bates. Grievous mistakes which are likely to cost me Downton."

It was a frank way of admitting what the valet already knew, that bad investments had led to the financial ruin of the family. Bates waited for more.

"Her Ladyship and I have discussed moving to a smaller house we own. You and Anna will be safe, of course, but much of the rest of the staff will need to be cut."

The way he spoke, Bates could sense in the man a profound guilt at failing his responsibilities as Downton's caretaker. Lord Grantham had always taken the employment of his people as the most important duty left to him as Earl, so being forced to sack so many hit him hard, especially with the number of young men still struggled to find work after the war.

"Perhaps something will come up, some solution you have not considered?" Bates suggested, wishing he could do more to alleviate the man's deep suffering. It felt wrong to let him worry so much when more than likely Mr. Crawley would still save Downton with his inheritance.

Lord Grantham shook his head sadly. "I can't think what. The money is simply not there."

It felt wrong to leave him so saddened and listless, but Bates had said all that he could say. With a heavy heart full of hope that the past _would_ repeat itself in this instance, Bates took his Lordship's spent clothing down to the laundry before walking with Anna back to their cottage.

* * *

The light was long gone by the time they reached home, but Anna still seemed full of energy as she made them both a cup of tea to drink in front of the fire. Bates could not quite identify the restlessness he felt from her, but as the minutes of their evening together passed and he observed her shifting and sighing with growing distraction, it began to dawn on him.

They _had_ been separated for a month. And it was foolish to assume that Anna's body had not resented the distance from her husband as thoroughly has his had missed the presence of his wife. Bates reminded himself forcefully that this was still Anna, no matter the incarnation, and she delighted in intimacies with her husband. When denied them for too long, she was not above seeking him out and expressing her desires.

Except... he wasn't quite ready, he realized. The cap he had purchased at the chemist was tucked away upstairs in the back of a lesser used drawer. The more he thought about the device, the more he wondered how he could possibly ask her to use it.

And suddenly as he watched Anna sitting on their small sofa in front of the fire, her shoes kicked off so her stocking feet could absorb more warmth, he was overwhelmed with an alarming sense of shame. How _could_ he ask her?

What right did he possibly have to request that his wife, this beautiful and kind and loving woman, put this unnatural device into her own body? Bates had a flash of how destroyed she had been after the attack, after Green had violated her against her will-

He felt genuinely ill. The thought of it was suddenly beyond comprehension. His own selfishness astonished him, and he could only blame the unwelcome urges of his body during Anna's absence for ever letting him believe that the cap was something he might suggest. It was for his benefit alone, so that he might feel her body naturally. But he had _no right_...

Anna must have noticed his sudden change of mood, because she looked at him with eyebrows drawn and a face full of concern. "What's the matter?" she asked.

Bates shook his head, unable and unwilling to explain to her the depth of betrayal he had nearly inflicted on her. Because he knew, deep down, that she would do as he asked. If he gave her the cap and asked her to use it, she would. She would do it for him, to benefit _him_ and _his_ pleasure, as though either had any value at all in the world.

"Nothing," he said finally, his voice husky with emotion.

He knew he had to get a grip on himself, that he was alarming his wife unnecessarily.

But when she stood up from her position on the sofa to cross over to where he sat in a solitary chair, he felt his heart beating even harder. Her closeness stirred in him such contradictory feelings of desire and shame, that she was deserving of so much more than the likes of him, but he still wanted her nevertheless. He wanted her so much, and it sometimes blinded him to her well being.

There was no way he could ask her to use the cap, no way at all. Even trying to bring the words to his lips was impossible. All he could see was her devastation from a past life, how another man's brutishness had hurt her, how her enduring love for _him_ had led her to isolate herself from the world lest he find out. Anna had already sacrificed so much to be with him, in this life and before, that he knew he could not ask this of her.

Gently, carefully, she lowered herself onto the arm of his chair, her closeness setting off all his senses. He could smell the faint scent of her hair, could feel the warmth her body emanated. Everything about her left the nerve endings in his body alight, as though he were full of electric currents and she was the switch allowing them to move forward.

"Did you miss me when I was in France?" she asked coyly, her voice both tender and mildly seductive.

He swallowed before taking a deep breath. "You have no idea how much."

Anna took the initiative, leaning closer to him as she whispered, "Then would you take me to bed, Mister Bates?"

Her question was genuine, full of hope rather than expectation. If he tried to beg off for another time, she would not hold it against him. She would not act disappointed or pout over the rejection. But Anna still risked such rejection by asking him openly, by expressing her wishes without guile or mask. The love in her voice could not be any more clear, nor could the desire in her eyes.

And he _did_ want to make love to his wife. He wanted it in undeniable ways, to be expressed in strong waves and tides rather than anything which could be escaped or ignored.

Bates did not remember answering her. Nor did he remember the trip they took from their parlor to their bedroom. Anna must have lit the candles because he certainly couldn't have done it. All he recalled was that suddenly they were together in bed, nothing between them but his own mountain of fears. They kissed like two people long denied each other, and he was reminded of how he'd felt when she was finally permitted to touch him outside the prison gates all those years ago. But kissing her was not enough.

Anna did not protest when he moved his mouth to other parts of her body. She simply gasped with pleasure and let him do the things to her he had been dreaming about for so many weeks in her absence. The need to bring her to completion drove him, just as his own inner fury with himself easily allowed his own self denial. She received love so beautifully, as if she was made just for that, and his heart wrenched uncomfortably at the notion that he had ever considered asking her for something different, something altogether unnatural for her being.

But even when Anna was left exhausted from pleasure, she wasted no time in reaching for him again, eager to reciprocate in any way he allowed. Her touch on his body was bold and assuming, and it responded to her without even the barest consultation with his conscious mind.

"What can I do?" she asked him, even as her hand stroked in a way that brought both distraction and blinding pleasure.

He could barely answer her. She could do whatever she liked. The notion that she actually wanted him astonished him anew, as though he was feeling it for the very first time. Her loveliness was all that he knew, all that he could comprehend in that moment, and it would be wrong to require more of her than just her mere presence in his life. His earlier guilt allowed him to fight against the momentary demands of his body which begged him to request more.

But Anna did need an answer. Her eyes had begun to fill with anxiety as he remained silent in the face of her question.

"Anything," was all he could muster, an echo of his earlier thought.

"Anything?" she repeated, as if to be sure.

Bates nodded, his voice abandoning him as the pressure she applied intensified with excitement. He lay back completely on the bed, giving himself up to her.

Her mouth enveloped him, the sensation straight out of his dreams. It set him on fire and tensed all the muscles in his body as they strained for _more_. Nothing could ever be enough, not with such need filling him up, finding all his nooks and hidden crannies. But Anna seemed to sense the pressure building, and she was not shy in her ministrations.

The feeling overtook him, allowing passion to push away his doubts and fears. Nothing mattered for a time, and he relaxed into the clearness of his mind. All he could think of in that moment was _her_ and the pleasure she brought him.

He lost all track of time, allowing her to do to him what she would. But after minutes passed and her movements slowed, Bates realized that she might not get the resolution from him that she was expecting. His need was almost too great, and as much as he enjoyed the warm wetness of her mouth, he needed something more to find a completion similar to hers.

Bates sensed when her desire to please him crossed over into growing desperation. Anna was growing tired from her exertions, and no longer did it seem enjoyable for her. She wanted to please him, certainly, but the expectations she had set for herself in that regard were clearly more than necessary.

Gripping her shoulders, Bates stopped her movement. Anna looked up at him, allowing their contact to sever. The loss of sensation momentarily took his breath away, but he ignored it to address his wife. "Please," he said, drawing her up to him.

After a moment of hesitation, she complied, moving so that her naked body draped half over his as he wrapped a protective arm around her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, as if she had failed him.

"I can't imagine why."

Just the thought of how she had looked moments before, her mouth on him, kept his desire alive. Her nude body on his stoked it like the bright coals of a fire which could take hours to cool.

"Tell me what I can do," she whispered, reaching for him with her hand. They both knew that was not enough either, that what his body craved was something much _more_.

He needed to be inside her. The realization was both visceral and stunning in its intensity. Bates also regarded it as a complete impossibility. After everything he now knew, after what he had read of the risk to Anna, her body was forbidden in that manner. That they had already done it before shamed him even as the memory wreaked havoc on the desire of his flesh.

"Just lay with me," he requested softly. In time, the need would dissipate. It had in her absence, during those long nights when memories of his wife tormented him.

But to Anna, this was an untenable solution.

"Couldn't we... Couldn't we do it as we did before, in the beginning?" she asked quietly. "I... miss the feel of you."

The longing in her voice did nothing to quench his desire for her, and Bates shifted uncomfortably.

"It isn't safe."

"But surely if we don't go too far..."

His mind flashed back to Ms. Stopes' book, to the passage explaining exactly why such a solution carried with it the very real risk of pregnancy. He could not do that, as much as he wanted to, as much as Anna seemed to want him to.

And yet, laying with her in the comfort of their home and their bed, hearing her desires for more, he could not maintain the ironclad will he had set during her absence. Anything Anna requested automatically became a priority in his mind, something he was a cad to deny. But in this instance, he knew he had to be strong for both of them.

Something occurred to him.

"There is a way," he said gravely. "I... I had planned to discuss it with you, but..."

He sighed, overcome with shame at what he had planned. He deserved his present state of frustration a thousand times over for ever thinking-

"What way?" Anna asked him.

* * *

TBC


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: This chapter is also rated M.** **Reviews are like puppies and kittens in my inbox. And I love puppies and kittens. And reviews.**

* * *

He swallowed reflexively at her question, at the genuine lightness in her voice as she queried him regarding something he had come to view as a personal violation of her body and spirit. She deserved so much better than a man as weak as him, someone unable to both satisfy her and keep her safe-

"Please tell me," she implored.

"I cannot ask it of you."

She had moved herself so she was looking down at his face, but Bates could not meet her direct gaze. Tears threatened to escape his eyes as he blinked furiously to clear his vision.

"At least tell me what you cannot ask."

Anna's tone had changed slightly, still tender and affectionate, but with a tinge of annoyance. Risking a glance at her face, Bates confirmed for himself the emotions he suspected she might demonstrate: irritation that he treated her too gently, impatience with his hesitation to share, and the slightest bit of alarm as to why he was so reticent.

He told her without preamble, "There is a device... I read about it in a book, and I consulted with the doctor on its use. Sometimes women use it to ensure they do not become with child."

Her eyebrow raised in curiosity. "What sort of device?"

After attempting to explain the cervical cap to the best of his ability, Bates finally gave up and brought her both the book by Marie Stopes and the box from the chemist. He wrapped a robe around himself while she pulled a cover over her to read, ending the intimacy of their moment together.

"You read all of this while I was away?" Anna asked finally, her voice unreadable as she studied the text.

Bates nodded. "That and another book, but this has more... pertinent information to the issue at hand."

"And why wouldn't you tell me about it if you had already purchased the device?"

She posed her question with genuine curiosity and obvious concern, and he was suddenly reminded of a time long ago when he had discovered the same sort of piece of equipment in their cottage, that time the originator being Lady Mary. The hurt he had felt at believing Anna did not want a child with him now struck him with bitter irony. By comparison, Anna spoke with much greater calm, her emotions shielded from his perception rather than raging out of control as his had done.

"How could I ask that of you?" he responded, suddenly feeling very open and vulnerable.

Bates looked away from her, needing a respite from her querying eyes.

A long silence stretched before them for several moments, and he heard her flipping back through the book, reading the specifics before she opened the box to peer at the cap itself. Finally, she asked, "Would this be enough to quell your fears when we are together?"

Strangely, he had not considered that question until she posed it. Was the cap enough? By all rights, it was an effective contraceptive, and it had the benefit of allowing them the most natural relationship available to any couple. Bates wanted that for Anna, as much as she seemed to want it for him. And to ask such a thing of her, it seemed only right that if she was willing, that he give up the remainder of his hesitations. While he might always suffer from them within his own mind, she need not be aware.

"Yes," he answered, projecting more certainty than he felt.

They spent some time discussing the specifics of the device with Bates explaining the knowledge he had gleaned from the book. "It keeps the... seed... from reaching the woman's womb. The book says that once the device is affixed, the woman does not even notice it."

Anna glanced away from him before asking, "And what of the man? Surely he can… feel it."

"Not usually," He answered. "Or so the book says. Of course, there are also... things the man can wear instead. A sort of silk sleeve to catch…" He paused, embarrassed to be discussing such things with her. "I bought some just in case, but the sleeves can easily slip off or break..."

He stopped, noticing the way she grimaced. The conversation was not a romantic one, but he suddenly realized something else.

Whether Anna believed him about the future or not, she cooperated in his plan to avoid children solely for his benefit. He had made it a condition of their marriage, and she adhered to that stricture accordingly. But she did not believe it necessary, not the way he did. Indeed, the very notion of her actively avoiding having his children offended her sensibilities.

"But we don't need to use anything so long as I don't... enter you," he stated softly, once again feeling his own self loathing.

While he could live with such measures, Bates also knew that Ms. Stopes' views on abstinence were clear. Women should enjoy regular... pleasure... to keep up their health and spirits. Bates knew that Anna did not need his organ inside her body to bring her to such heights, but Ms. Stopes had also postulated that a man's very seed was beneficial to women. He knew not how, but the doctor was supposed to be an expert in her subject.

His own pleasure was of such minimal importance that he could cast it aside with nearly a second thought, but Anna was not so callous. She had already demonstrated her desire for reciprocity in their bedroom encounters. And if he could lay her concerns to rest...

The way she looked up at his suggestion confirmed his belief. "That seems an unnecessary deprivation, Mister Bates. If it will put you at ease, I will wear this cap. It sounds like the best option for us both."

Even as she made the offer, another facet of what he was asking of her settled on his head and shoulders like a boulder of great weight. From her perspective, he requested that she give up children on the nebulous belief that she might die in childbirth. He restricted their physical love to the point that it felt unnatural. And now on top of that, he demanded that she put an object into her body before he could take his pleasure with her. Surely, at some point, his requirements would prove too much for her?

"I think only of you," he stated, wishing he could make Anna understand. Nothing was of greater importance than her life.

She gave him a gentle, loving smile. "I know."

* * *

Over the next few days, Anna read Ms. Stopes book - both books, actually - and the instructions on how to install the cap. Bates waited for her to approach him about the matter, and she did so in due course, on an evening when they did not return to the cottage so terribly late.

"I think we should... give it a try," she said, the slight shrug of her shoulders making it seem like a small thing. "Tonight."

He could not, of course, refuse her.

Anna did what was needed with the cap in privacy, away from her husband, and to a large extent he was relieved. When she entered their bedroom clad in her nightgown, he could discern no difference in her.

"Did you…"

Anna nodded. "I had to fiddle with it, but I think it is as it should be."

Without another word, she climbed under the covers beside him and stripped off her night gown. Bates' eyebrows raised in surprise, but he hardly had time to register the emotion before she was in his arms, her lips overtaking his. Her boldness should have shocked him, but it didn't. They were still early in their marriage, but the Anna he had loved before had gradually lost all shyness with him.

Besides, this night was not one for gentle lovemaking and careful, precise movement on his part. For once, his restraint could be set aside as he sought out Anna's physical responses and indulged in his own. Her decisiveness excited him, just as it seemed to excite her, and before long he had lost his own clothing and they were a tangle of limbs in their bed.

Once Anna achieved her climax, and he made certain that she did, Bates knew she would be keen to see him find his own. But the thought of concluding matters inside her still filled him with trepidation. What if the cap did not work? What if Anna had installed it wrong?

The act of their physical joining was like a long delayed homecoming, and he enjoyed it in spite of the lingering tendrils of guilt and fear which tried to reach for him in the moment. Quite simply, Anna felt amazing. She looked amazing, and he again counted himself the luckiest man on Earth as she looked down at him with her sapphire eyes, a wave of blonde hair framing her face.

But as the moment of his end approached, his anxiety grew. He shifted so as to move her, so he could have more control, but Anna resisted.

"Please," he whispered, and she finally relented, allowing them to change position. Something about holding her in his arms as he looked down at her was both achingly familiar and erotic.

"But don't you dare pull away from me," she warned him as they resumed, hugging his shoulders to her body with all her strength. "I want to feel you."

Unable to argue with her, Bates allowed the sensual love in her gravely, desire-filled voice to bring him back to that precipice as they moved together again. A crowded jumble of thoughts and doubts clouded his mind, making it difficult to focus. Perhaps that moment of discomposure was what he needed most because not long after, he felt himself tipping over the edge. His last few thrusts as he spilled his seed were intense and exquisite, a symphony of sensation for his body. Anna truly was amazing, every part of her. As wrong as it seemed to be finding his end in such a way, nothing had ever felt more right.

They lay together in the aftermath of their lovemaking, both spent and surrounded by a hazy glow of pleasure. Anna grinned at him, and he returned her infectious smile with one of his own.

"Oh, how I missed you," he murmured softly.

She curled her body against his, the warmth of her skin sending a chill down his spine followed quickly by the return of that fuzzy feeling of relaxation. Sleep called to Bates even as his wife hummed against his shoulder, "Me too. I thought of little else but this while I was away."

"Did you?"

"Oh yes, Mister Bates."

He flushed hotly as his mind conjured an image of her in a foreign land, lying in bed and daydreaming of his touch. But Anna had never been coy about her regard for him, and in this instance, he believed her.

He also sensed the fatigue filtered through her tone, just as he felt her relax against him. Glancing down at her face, he saw that her eyelids were beginning to droop, her slow blinks taking longer and longer until her eyes had shut completely.

Not bothering to disturb her so he could turn down the lamp, Bates fell asleep shortly after her, the subtle rise and fall of her chest lulling him into a nameless rhythm.

 **TBC**


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Huge thanks to everyone who has been providing feedback on this story. Reviews give such a huge motivation to keep writing. :)**

* * *

"I'm afraid there's nothing for it but to sell, Bates," the Earl told him with a deep sigh of finality.

While many things had changed from the reality he once knew to the one he was living, Bates breathed a sigh of relief when he heard that Mr. Matthew had once more inherited a sum from his late fiance's father. However, he had not yet chosen to use that inheritance to save Downton, something which weighed heavily on Lord Grantham's mind but gave Bates little pause.

"He doesn't feel it would be right to accept the money," the Earl explained to his valet. "And while I might not agree with the conclusion, I cannot fault his principles."

Of course, such principles were standing in the way of a great many people's futures, Bates' included. Even if the family sold Downton and moved to a smaller house, they would take their most familiar servants with them. He and Anna likely would not have their own cottage, and other accommodations would have to be made. But they would still be together, and almost as importantly, employed. Far too many others would have to be let go. Plus there were all the tenants to consider, and those who lived in the village. All of that would be thrown into the air if the Crawleys had to leave.

It hurt him to see Lord Grantham so devastated by the looming loss of his birthright. Part of Bates wanted to knock some sense into Matthew Crawley, to make him see what all he would be destroying by adhering to his damned principles. But even gifted with foresight, he could not share it any more than he could approach the Earl's heir about turning down the fortuitous wealth which could save everything the family held dear.

"Whatever happens, milord, there are those who will stand by you," he said instead, his meaning of exactly who he meant quite clear. The statement likely offered little comfort in the face of so many unknowns, but it quickly prompted a smile from the other man.

"Thank you, Bates. You have no idea how much that means to me."

They were quiet for a moment until he ventured awkwardly - and with some reluctance - "You have the house in London, milord."

"Certainly." He paused. "But it is much tighter quarters. We'd have to dismiss many of the servants." The man sighed with a mixture of embarrassment and sadness, frustration and disappointment. "There's also a property in the north. A manor house, small compared to what we're used to, but it might suit our needs."

"And you wouldn't have to live in town," Bates put in knowingly. While the Crawleys stayed in London for the season, they much preferred the Yorkshire countryside.

"There is that, yes."

A din fell over the dressing room for a time as Lord Grantham seemed preoccupied with how to best handle his affairs going forward. Wishing he could offer some consolation, that he could hint at Mr. Matthew changing his mind about the inheritance, Bates instead kept silent. There were no guarantees any longer, and if the Crawleys were forced to sell Downton Abbey, the future would change beyond all recognition.

* * *

He took the stairs down to the servant's hall with a heavy heart, the weight of his Lordship's misfortunes still weighing on his mind. Had it taken this long for Mr. Crawley to change his mind about accepting Mr. Swire's inheritance before? He had no idea. All he could remember from this time before were his dealings with his lovely cellmate Craig and the corrupt warden who patronized him.

Every time he thought about prison, he was reminded to take a deep breath of air and delight over his freedom. Even in the face of losing Downton, he had much for which to be thankful.

Thankfully, Bates was distracted from his own thoughts by his lovely wife, who was excited to inform him of a letter she'd received from Gwen, the former housemaid.

"She's coming to Downton," his wife said, beaming over the pages from her old friend. "She wants to stop in and see us at the cottage."

The last he had heard, Gwen was still working for the telephone company and traveling throughout the country. In his past life, he knew she'd been married, and she had not visited Downton until years after her marriage.

"Saturday next. I'll see about changing my half day so I can visit with her."

The matter was dropped for the time being, but on the date of Gwen's visit, Anna reminded him again and he accompanied her to the cottage so they could receive the former housemaid properly. Apparently she felt more comfortable there than turning up at the house. Anna buzzed about their small home, readying the kitchen to offer tea. Bates had not seen her so wrapped up with anxiousness and concern for a long time.

The Gwen Dawson who knocked on their door was not the same woman who had left Downton to work as a secretary. The former housemaid had still been a girl, nervous and unsure of herself. This woman had grown up considerably in the past few years, her features softening even as her demeanor bespoke someone very comfortable in their own skin.

Anna could not have been more excited, and in those first moments, the years melted away for both of them, transporting each woman back to their days as housemaids. Greeting Gwen politely but standing back as he let them catch up, Bates smiled to himself at the sight of Anna so animated.

The two exchanged news of themselves and then of the other servants at Downton, with Anna relaying a great deal of what had occurred in the time since Gwen had left. And before long, it was as though no time had passed at all, and they were just two housemaids sitting huddled together at the servants' hall table.

Bates left them be, retiring to the settee with a book and following the discussion with only one ear. Of course, his attention was caught again when he heard them mention William.

"He's living at his father's farm," Anna said. "I believe he's recovered from his injuries, at least those from which he can recover."

The tension in Anna's tone was obvious to Bates, and apparently Gwen heard it too.

"I had heard that he was badly injured," Gwen ventured carefully.

"Yes," Anna confirmed. "I haven't seen him myself, but I have heard the same."

The former housemaid nodded thoughtfully before inquiring, "And what about Daisy? I thought they were engaged before he went to fight."

"They were engaged, but things fell apart after he came back so hurt..."

Their conversation had slackened into low tones, but Bates glanced up from the meaningless words on the page before him, too engrossed in their conversation to pay attention to his book. The expression on Gwen's face betrayed thinly veiled anger, and perhaps disgust, at Daisy.

"But she never understood William," the woman interrupted Anna. "She never saw him for what was inside rather than outside. It doesn't surprise me she couldn't see past his face-"

Tilting her head to the side, Anna informed her, "But William called it off, not Daisy."

This news made the other woman pause. "William did?"

Nodding, Anna said, "He only let her see him the once, and not at all for the rest of us. He stays secluded at his father's farm, working I believe. Thomas said he heard that William wears a mask now, to cover the part of his face that was burned, but he never goes into the village. Almost no one has actually seen him."

Bates sighed as he listened to his wife describe the former footman's circumstances. Such an injury was difficult for a man to live with. Before the Great War, men like William would be expected to stay out of sight lest they frighten children and disconcert regular people. But William had not been a soldier by profession. He was one of Britain's sons, conscripted to fight the Germans and maimed in the process.

Society was changing, but slowly. William would never be able to walk in public without others staring at him. But those who saw him would likely feel pity rather than only disgust. Of course, Bates knew from experience how much William likely despised pity.

"I wrote him, when I heard what happened," Gwen stated softly. "But he never wrote back. I thought that perhaps he and Daisy had gotten married, until I received your letter."

Anna looked carefully at her friend. "Do you think you should go and see him?" she asked.

"If he'll let me. I'd write again, for what good it would do. But if I show up, he can't refuse me, can he?"

"I don't know…"

"But you should go with me," Gwen pressed on. "I know you want to see him too. You mentioned worrying about him in your letter."

Still, Anna seemed apprehensive. "I'd hate to invade his privacy," she said, although Bates could tell his wife wanted to see her old friend. She had never said it to him, but he knew that Anna looked on William like the younger brother she never had.

"But what if he's uncomfortable receiving company? If he doesn't go out because of his face…"

Then William likely remained isolated at his father's farm, doing what work he could while avoiding the gaze of others by never appearing in public. Not for the first time, Bates felt grateful that his own injury was not as bad as it could have been.

After more cajoling and discussion, the two women made a plan to visit William in a week's time. Gwen would be in the village for a fortnight while her company did work in the area, so they decided to write to Mr. Mason to inform him of their impending visit. Only after Gwen had departed did Anna discuss the matter with her husband.

"Are you sure you should go?" he asked.

She responded frankly, "No, I'm not sure. I worry that it will only distress him more, for her to see him like that, and me besides. But I do hate the thought of him all alone. He's done nothing wrong, and his appearance shouldn't matter."

"It shouldn't, but it does," he told his wife. "I never told you, but I saw him at the church at Lady Mary's wedding. He stood in the back, keeping to the shadows."

"You should have said-"

Bates shook his head. "He did not want to be seen."

Anna's face contorted with sympathy and apprehension. William was one of the many servants she took under her wing at Downton and someone she admired for going to war. But she also mourned for the loss of his innocence. And below her unease, he could sense a question from her, one she would not ask openly.

"He wore a mask on the side of his face," Bates volunteered, "and his father was with him."

He kept to himself the slump of the young man's shoulders and the defeated way he held back from the rest of the churchgoers. He strongly suspected that William would not relish a visit from Anna or Gwen.

"What about Daisy?" he asked, bringing Anna's attention to the other wrinkle in the affair.

"What about her?" Anna sent back at him. "She hasn't gone to visit him since, I know. I think the very thought of it terrifies her."

"Mrs. Hughes said that she saw him just after he was sent home. That can't have been easy..."

She answered severely, "Love is never easy. We both of us know that. But to get the benefits of it, one must be willing to make the sacrifices."

The matter-of-factness of her statement worried Bates, but he said nothing else on the matter.

* * *

TBC


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: This chapter took a little longer than I'd like due to various personal circumstances. I hope to have the next update out in a more timely manner, but reviews provide added incentive to keep going as they let me know if folks are still interested in the story. :)**

* * *

Bates' thoughts were on William the day Anna went with Gwen to visit Mr. Mason's farm. He still felt hesitant about the two women going, uncertain how it would feel for William to have his home and privacy invaded, even by well intentioned friends. But he could not make that decision, not for them or for William.

Perhaps because he had the former footman on his mind, he took particular notice of an interaction between Molesley and Thomas which he might otherwise have let pass without a second thought. Molesley was still filling in as a temporary valet for Mr. Matthew, although the position was far from a permanent one. Bates knew what the others did not, that Mr. Matthew likely did not want to take on Molesley when the family was in dire financial straits. Of everyone with the last name Crawley, Mr. Matthew could most easily do without a personal servant.

In the meantime, Thomas continued to do his level best to dominate the quiet man every chance he could. But Molesley, it seemed, had had quite enough.

"You're in my way," Thomas stated blandly, holding a tray.

Molesley stood leaning against the stairs outside the kitchen, taking a moment's break. He looked up at Thomas before glancing around to note that the space about him was clear.

"Perhaps you should go around me."

The strength in his voice was as surprising as the directness of the comment, Bates observed to himself. It was not a suggestion, not a compromise. Timid Mr. Molesley from a lifetime past had been replaced with a battle-tried soldier, and it showed in both his tone and the squareness of his shoulders.

"I don't want to go around you. I want you to move," Thomas remarked snidely, his eyes squinting ever so slightly with contempt.

Molesley crossed his arms over his chest. He was not completely different, of course. Bates glimpsed the old Molesley in his sudden stiffness, the way he almost made himself smaller rather than larger even as he took a moment to respond to the footman.

"I don't care what you want."

Molesley spoke with authority, shaky though it may be, but the challenge in his tone was something Bates noted as out of the ordinary. Perhaps the man had finally been pushed too far by Thomas, and he was near the edge of his breaking point. The same had happened with William when he'd fought Thomas in the servants' hall following the death of the younger footman's mother.

Bates stepped forward, sensing that he would need to intervene before the situation escalated further. But before he could say anything, Molesley's shoulders relaxed. His entire demeanor changed as his eyes deliberately dropped from Thomas' to look without reservation at the other man's hand - the one usually covered with a special flesh-toned glove when he was not in livery.

"You seem to be able to manage that quite well, despite your _so-called_ injury," Molesley remarked boldly. "You shouldn't have any trouble stepping around me."

Thomas stopped suddenly and stiffened with growing fury. "What do you mean, 'so-called'?"

Molesley stood his ground, although the tremor in his voice betrayed a hint of reservation, or perhaps uncertainty. But he said without hesitation, "I think you know what I mean."

Thomas' face twitched at the inference, and for the first time, Bates found himself pondering the injury to the footman's hand. He'd obviously been shot while serving in the trenches, but Bates knew all too well that the hand did not hinder Thomas in his duties, nor would it in the years to come. He had long ago realized the partial glove the man wore was due entirely to vanity. But he had never suspected the wound to be merely superficial, let alone self inflicted.

"Care to explain it to me?" Thomas seethed, stepping forward even more to crowd the other man, the only thing separating them the tray in the footman's hands. The anger in his tone filled the room, and at this point, Bates recognized the need to step in.

"Mister Molesley," he addressed the other valet, "might I have a word?"

Neither man had realized he was there watching, and they started at his voice. But neither turned to him immediately either, the tension between them persisting for several long moments. Finally, Molesley moved away first. He glared at Thomas before stepping to the side, allowing the footman to pass. Bates waited until Thomas had gone all the way up the stairs before speaking.

"Do you have reason to accuse Thomas of something... untoward?" he asked quietly, keeping his voice even.

Molesley turned to glance at him, his expression somber. He responded, "Not accuse, no. Just seems terribly convenient is all, what happened with his hand."

"I'm sure he finds it rather inconvenient." There was an edge to his tone, a reminder of Bates' own history. If the man noticed, he gave no sign.

"I've seen much worse," Molesley observed, his voice devoid of all tone. The invisible shadows over his eyes concealed horrors that Bates could all too well imagine.

There was silence for a moment between them before Bates broke it.

"Likely the Germans saw the light from his cigarette."

A beat passed before Molesley responded, and he said blandly, "But Thomas smokes with his right hand, not his left."

His voice did not betray anger or resentment, only crisp skepticism. He glanced at Bates again, his eyes full of meaning which could not be put into words. It was the look of one soldier to another, of two men who had seen the worst of humanity's dark hours and been forced to come to terms with those memories in order to sleep at night. Or most nights.

Molesley said nothing more before walking away.

Bates stared after him, then looked back up in the direction Thomas had gone. In all the years he had known the man, he had never suspected that the footman's war injury might be anything other than what it appeared on the surface. But in the span of moments, Molesley had thrown what little remained of Thomas's honor into complete doubt. The notion of cowardice should not have been a surprising one, not really, not when he thought of all the other evil acts that man had committed at Downton. But for Bates it was. This possibility was so much worse than Thomas attempting to have him fired or for all the other interferences he had committed in a past life. It went to the very core of a man's character.

Bates knew he was not the only one it would not sit well with. If Molesley did not keep his suspicions to himself and others believed the injury was self inflicted to get out of the fighting at the front, the consequences for Thomas could be utterly devastating.

* * *

Anna did not return from her visit to Mr. Mason's farm until after nightfall, and upon her arrival at the house, she went straight up to help Lady Mary change. Bates caught sight of her for a moment on the stairs and noticed that she seemed out of sorts. But he knew he should wait until they were home at the cottage to broach the subject.

At the end of the evening, Bates found himself waiting in the servants' hall for Anna to finish with undressing Lady Mary. Most of the others had already gone to bed, and Mrs. Hughes was in her sitting room with Mr. Carson, likely enjoying a tipple of sherry to round out the day. Only O'Brien remained at the table, and she seemed intent on quietly mending some item for her Ladyship before bed.

The woman had become much more friendly towards him since her nephew began working at the house as a footman. Bates had sighed in relief at the familiar sight of Alfred even as Carson frowned at his height and the obvious way in which O'Brien had gone over his head to have the lad hired. But Alfred was a good worker, his aunt's interference not withstanding. And O'Brien had even thanked him for showing the young man a few valeting tricks, something Thomas felt beneath him as first footman.

Anna's appearance awoke him from his thoughts, and he could tell from her countenance that she was still disturbed by something. However, they made it all the way to the cottage before she felt comfortable divulging her concerns.

"He wouldn't see us," she said as she stripped off her hat and gloves inside the door of their home. "We went all the way to Mister Mason's farm, and William refused to even come out to the parlor."

"Honestly, I'm not surprised," he told her.

Anna looked at him sharply. "How can you say that? We are his friends. Why should his appearance matter to us?"

Bates tried not to smile at her naivety. "Of course it matters, and with his friends most of all. He doesn't want to be pitied, Anna, and how could you feel otherwise when you'd known him before?"

While the wound to his leg was very different from severe facial scars, Bates well knew the feeling of past acquaintances seeing his cane and trying not to be startled, not to be disturbed by it. With William it would be ten times worse, perhaps a hundred times. Bates knew that the former footman did not want to see fear or revulsion in the eyes of those he cared about.

But Anna squared her shoulders. "I don't pity him," she responded stubbornly, "not any more than I pitied you when we first met. I'm simply glad that he is alive, as hard as his life must be now. And what does it matter what a person looks like, anyway? All that matters is who they are on the inside."

Unable to argue with her on the matter, to make her understand something she really could not understand, he simply conceded, "Yes, you are right. Perhaps William needs more time?"

Anna hummed her agreement, although she obviously remained troubled by the business.

* * *

Anna was not the only troubled person at Downton.

As the days passed, Bates noticed a seriousness about Mrs. Hughes, as though her mind were on more than just her work. He had watched the woman weather a great many trials and tribulations since coming to Downton, but he could not make out what was bothering her. It seemed of a personal nature and he hated to intrude.

When he asked Anna if she had observed the same, his wife seemed puzzled. "I hadn't noticed. Did she say anything?"

"Not precisely, no. But I get a feeling about her, as though she is waiting for bad news."

Anna shrugged a shoulder. "She doesn't confide in me much. Maybe she's just been feeling poorly? I'll see if there's anything I can do to help make things easier on her."

Pleased that she was willing to undertake such a duty, Bates knew that Anna might be able to ease Mrs. Hughes' burden, whatever it was that was on her mind. In the mean time, he had his own task set for himself as far as his Lordship.

Seeking to distance the Earl from his worries over the estate, Bates told him in broad strokes about Molesley's insinuations regarding the nature of Thomas' war-injury. If the suggestion that Thomas had deliberately sought out injury to get out away from the front ever became more than a few words spoken in anger, it would be best that his Lordship knew of it ahead of time. Besides, the more he thought about Thomas' hand, the more Bates began to wonder if what Molesley suggested was actually true.

As an officer, Lord Grantham would have had more experience with self inflicted injuries and courts martial for such during the Boers than he. And besides, he knew himself well enough to recognize he could not be impartial where Thomas was concerned. It was exactly the sort of despicable, cowardly act he might expect from the dark-haired footman. At the same time, Bates reminded himself that he himself had not served in the Great War and had no room to throw stones at others.

When he had finally made himself clear, the Earl looked startled at the insinuation Molesley had brought up so suddenly. "Surely if they suspected something at the time they would have done an inquiry?"

"I thought as much as well, milord," Bates responded.

His employer was obviously troubled by the matter, but as of yet, there was little more to the situation than an off-hand comment from an acting valet to a footman. "Perhaps it is nothing, just the hint of wrongdoing with nothing behind it." Going to the heart of the matter, his Lordship asked pointedly, "Do you think this is something Molesley intends to pursue further?"

Bates shook his head slowly. "I couldn't say. Thomas has always been a bit of a bully below stairs, and up until now he has gotten away with it. There is some simmering resentment between them over the valet position, I think, and... he may be approaching the point of pushing Mister Molseley too far. "

He left the rest of the scenario unspoken. If Thomas did not leave Molesley alone, the acting valet might retaliate by leveling his accusation in a more public manner. Even if there were no truth behind it, the suggestion would be harmful to Thomas' reputation, and the resulting scandal might impact the rest of the household.

"Let me know if you hear anything more."

"Of course, milord."

"And what of poor William Mason?" Lord Grantham asked, apparently reminded of the former footman by talk of the war. "Any news on how he's been faring?"

"Not much. Anna and a friend who used to work here as a maid went to visit him at Mister Mason's farm, but... They weren't able to see him."

The Earl sighed and shook his head, obviously understanding. "I cannot say as I'm surprised. At least he has his father. Perhaps in time, he'll come to find some peace."

With a thoughtful expression, Bates glanced down at his own leg and the cane in his right hand. He flashed back to the years of pain and embarrassment, the long fights with Vera he tried to drown out by crawling into a bottle. The memories of prison and the exertions which left him needing a cane to walk without a severe limp also came to mind. That was putting aside all the rest of it.

But in the end, even he had found happiness, and he wished the same for William.

"I have the same hope, milord."

* * *

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: I apologize for the lengthy delay between chapters. I haven't given up on this story, although health issues and major life changes have occupied all my time and energy the last several months. My hope is to update more frequently going forward.**

* * *

With so much else occupying his thoughts, Bates found that his worries about Anna following their use of the cervical cap during intimacy often left his mind for long periods. But when he had a free moment to himself, they would return again, plaguing him with terrible "what if" scenarios and a general sense of foreboding. He did not truly relax again until Anna's next cycle had arrived, heralding that if nothing else, the cap had worked during their time together.

While his wife showed little concern over the matter, it did give him some sense of relief, at least for the moment.

"Does this mean you're more amenable to... that sort of thing?" she asked in a voice full of hopeful teasing.

"I'm amenable to anything which brings you joy," Bates told her with a smile.

She was not a woman to waste such an acquiescence.

Before long, their intimate life settled into an orderly but not unromantic routine as Anna regularly overcame whatever reticence still plagued him. The cap worked surprisingly well for their circumstances, and Anna quickly became a master at both taking care of it and ensuring it was in place for any relations they wished to engage in. Marie Stopes' book suggested that it could be left in for days at a time without ill effect, and before long, Bates no longer even felt the need to ask his wife about it. He still worried about the efficacy of the device, and he suspected that worry would never truly leave his mind. But as the weeks melted into one another, his concern began to settle into something manageable rather than a raging beast looming over his every waking moment.

He had to admit, he truly enjoyed such easy intimacy with his wife. This newfound freedom to be together allowed him to relax in a manner he hadn't permitted since waking up in this familiar new version of his life.

Bates was not a young man, not by any means. But his marriage to Anna was a rejuvenation, making his blood hotter and his desire quick to stoke. And the woman who had chosen to marry him _was_ beautiful, inside and out, and she not only accepted any suggestion of marital affection he might hint at but encouraged him as well. It was not so different as his life before, but this time he appreciated the physical side of their relationship in a very different way.

 _Married Love_ described an ebb and flow of female desire which followed the phases of Anna's cycle, and Bates learned to track her monthly courses for his own purposes. According to the book, he could calculate when she was at her most fertile period, a time he deemed to be at the greatest risk. In the next week during which she was the most likely to become pregnant, he decided it was still best to try and removed himself from her body before his climax, just as an added precaution. But when he mentioned this preventative measure to Anna one night as a means of assuaging his fears, she was genuinely upset with him.

"I thought we were past this!" she exclaimed in frustration. "I thought the whole point of the cap was so that we could enjoy each other...naturally."

"It is, but-"

She was not angry, not really. But her consternation left him reeling with a confusing mixture of emotions. Bates hated upsetting her, hated asking her for yet something more in the need to calm his fears. At the same time, those fears never left his mind. They reared up at odd moments, leaving him virtually paralyzed.

"Don't you trust me?" Anna interrupted his brooding, any anger left in her voice turning instead to sadness.

He hated to see her so.

"Of course I trust you."

While he would never trust himself, he did trust her. And although the safest course of action was probably to avoid their time together during her most fertile period, he recognized that continuing to make requirements would only wear away at Anna's spirit.

"I'm sorry," he offered, feeling miserable. "I should never have mentioned it."

In an instant, he decided that the comfort of placating his fears was in this instance not as important as giving Anna the freedom she so desperately needed. After all, she had compromised so much for him, for concerns she did not and could not fully share.

Something about his tone must have touched her. Gently, Anna wrapped her arms around him, assuring him of her continued love and acceptance.

"Never say that," she implored him. "I want you to share your thoughts with me. But I don't want us to be held completely captive by these fears. The device will keep anything from happening."

He understood her position. He did. And perhaps she did not realize that despite his best intentions, those fears still clung like chains around his mind and body. The cloud of doubts left him in a fog of unease which only ever seemed to disperse in her presence or at the warm reassurance of her embrace.

For now, it was enough to give her what little she asked of him. It would be like a burr in his shoe, impossible to ignore or remove. But he would simply have to live with this small risk - for her.

Not withstanding Anna's use of the contraceptive device, they otherwise settled into their life together as quickly and easily as Bates could remember from before. Anna obviously enjoyed sharing his bed even in the non-biblical sense, and he often awoke to her curled up at his side as though seeking out his warmth. In truth, such moments were more precious than those born of desires of the flesh. Her pleasure in his company had always been something that amazed him, but her obvious happiness in this life they'd begun to build together still awed him.

Bates did his best to ignore the new worry in the back of his mind, the one which said it could not last, that their happiness was bound to be interrupted at any moment by some new tragedy.

xxxxx

The antagonism between Molesley and Thomas continued to grow with each passing week. The two men rarely spoke to each other, but their eyes shot daggers whenever one entered the room the other already occupied. The uncertainty of Molesley's position as Mr. Matthew's valet certainly did not help matters. Men had been pouring into the village looking for work ever since the end of the war, and Bates suspected that Molesley was terrified at the prospect of finding a new position.

As well he should be, Bates noted to himself, thinking of the past.

Meanwhile, with Thomas otherwise occupied with his quiet war with Molesley, Alfred was spared the brunt of the footman's usual irritation and sarcastic remarks. At first, the tall young man attempted to befriend Bates, asking astute questions and watching all his activities with lively eyes. But when the attention began to feel a bit confining, Bates attempted to redirect the household's newest footman.

"You should ask Mister Carson about that," he said when pressed about a finer point of the upstairs table settings. "I'm sure he would be pleased with your interest."

As it turned out, Mr. Carson was more than pleased with Alfred's curiosity, and before long, Bates found himself nodding in approval as he watched a mentor-like relationship develop between the two. He recalled something of the sort from before, but his own opinions of Alfred were rather colored by the whole business with Thomas' unfortunate interest in James.

Thoughts of Thomas left him wondering once more about the man's injury. The footman seemed less bold around Bates after Molesley's insinuations of cowardice, which only left Bates that much more suspicious. He had not spoken of the matter to anyone but his Lordship of course, as it was not his place. But his mind could not put the matter to rest.

While he had only seen the black and white pictures of the war trenches in newspapers, Bates could readily imagine the chaos of battle from his own past experiences in the Boers. He thought about Thomas serving as a medic, seeing the injured up close every hour of every day, and wondered if that was enough to drive the man to a self inflicted wound in order to escape.

Of course, it left him conflicted. Far too many men died in the war, and others like William and Mr. Crawley had been terribly injured in the course of their duties. Rather than be thrown directly into the fighting, Thomas would have been responsible for those men specifically - the wounded and the dying. He was not asked to take up arms, only to bear the stretcher for his fellow brothers in arms. By injuring himself to get out of his service, he would have abandoned them. Having been wounded in battle himself, Bates found that sort of cowardice difficult to forgive.

And yet, he had not been there. That refrain echoed in his mind every time the voice in the back of his head shouted condemnations of Thomas. Bates had not been there fighting in the trenches, not this time or in his lifetime before. He had little right to pass judgment on others when he himself had been safe at Downton during the years of the war.

"What has you all tied up in knots?" Anna asked him in a low voice as they sat beside each other at dinner.

Bates shook his head. "Nothing of consequence."

She raised an eyebrow at him, indicating that she knew he was lying.

With a sigh, he admitted, "I was only thinking of the war."

"And William," Anna guessed. While she was mostly wrong in her assertion, many of his concerns about Thomas did resonate more because of William's fate. How horribly unfair it seemed that someone like Thomas Barrow would deliberately harm himself to avoid serving his country when brave young William Mason nearly died. He had died, in another time.

"I've actually had some news of him from Gwen," she went on, recapturing her husband's attention. "Apparently after our failed visit, she decided to start writing to him."

"Oh?" This news piqued his curiosity. He recalled Gwen being a modern young woman, but it seemed quite forward of her to write to William.

"He didn't write back, at least not at first. But she's finally had a letter from him."

Bates smiled. "That's excellent news."

"Gwen's hopeful that they'll be able to strike up a correspondence, at least until he's comfortable enough for visitors."

" _If_ he is ever comfortable," Bates said quietly. He tried to temper the warning in his tone so Anna would not get her hopes up.

Anna nodded her agreement. "Yes, _if_ and _when_ he is comfortable," she said.

Bates glanced across the table to see if Mrs. Hughes had been listening to their conversation as she had always been quite fond of William. But the woman seemed to be staring absently at her plate, the food there sitting untouched. The housekeeper looked pale, her curly hair more listless than usual, and his brow wrinkled as he tried to discern a reason for her subdued nature.

When Mr. Carson asked her a question, his low tone too quiet to hear over the rest of the talk around the table, Mrs. Hughes plastered on the facade of normality along with a smile which did not reach her eyes. If the butler noticed her preoccupation, he gave no indication of it.

Before Bates could observe more, the bells were ringing for the family to be undressed before bed, and Bates stood up from the table to complete his nightly ritual with Lord Grantham.

TBC


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: I apologize for yet another extended absence from this story (and writing in general). Sometimes real life complicates matters in the best of ways. :) Reviews are always appreciated and will let me know if folks still wants me to finish this fic. This chapter is rated M.**

 **Given my sore lack of updates, for anyone with a poor memory like mine who needs a recap... This story is the sequel to _No Man Can Regret Loving._ For those of you who didn't skip the angsty first chapter of that tale, you will remember that it begins with Anna and her baby dying in childbirth, leaving Bates to attempt suicide amidst his grief. Instead of things ending there, he woke up in his own past, having inexplicably gone back in time to a point before he traveled to Downton. Bates relives the years of his life covered by S1 and S2 of the show with the knowledge of what occurred before, sometimes able to change matters and sometimes simply suffering the knowledge of the future in anguished helplessness. _As I Have Loved You_ picks up around the beginning of S3 after Bates and Anna wed. Due to his fears of Anna once again dying in childbirth, they agree not to try and start a family and to use contraceptive measures (specifically a cervical cap). Historical details in that regard are taken from Marie Stopes' _Married Love_ and other writings. Other storylines differ from the show as well. Vera did not die but was enticed into divorce by a man named Franklin who Bates hired to seduce her. Rather than dying in the Great War, William was left with a severely burned face and secluded himself at his father's farm. He and Daisy did not marry, and Gwen has returned to seek him out. Molesley was unable to avoid the draft but came back a war hero. With his knowledge of the front, he suspects Thomas' injury was self inflicted. There are other variations from the true DA timeline, but those may be helpful if you do not wish to re-read the entire story to enjoy this woefully delayed update. :)**

* * *

Anna usually slept late in the morning, waking long after her husband was about and ready for the day. But she always managed to get ready in time for work, as if magical elves helped her to dress. But on one occasion, she woke before him, and he opened his eyes to see her watching him sleep with impish delight.

"Good morning," she purred.

"Good morning," Bates answered her, blinking sleepily as the cobwebs fell away from his mind.

But before he could focus fully, he felt Anna's hand run along his leg under the covers. He drew in a sharp breath as she gently started near his knee and moved her questing hand up along his thigh.

"Anna…"

He was not sure whether her name was a warning or simply an involuntary sound his voice was used to producing.

"Good morning," she said again, the missive whispered into one ear this time as she leaned into him. Her hand felt like fire even through the thin fabric of his pajamas.

Her hand quested further, Bates carefully let out the breath which had been trapped in his throat. He thought to stop her, to encourage her away from such ministrations, but over the course of their weeks together as man and wife, he'd learned much about Anna's personality. She gave pleasure as eagerly as she accepted it – perhaps even more so considering that Bates refused to ask her for any special consideration. To his way of thinking, her pleasure should be of utmost importance with his own considered only secondarily - or not at all.

While they had never discussed it openly, Anna clearly did not agree. Ever since the night he'd first allowed her to pleasure him with her mouth, she'd sought out to do it again and again. Bates felt himself ache with the memory.

Anna's hand moved until she found what she'd been seeking, and he bit his lip to keep from moving against her palm as she found him straining against the fabric of his pajamas.

"May I?" she whispered, and he nodded wordlessly, unable to guarantee that speech would be intelligible.

Her deft fingers undid the lacing and buttons of his undergarment. And then her hand was on him, firm but gentle. But as she worked her magic, the bedsheets grew hot and a hindrance for Anna, so she discarded them to the foot of the bed, freeing them both into the cool morning air of their bedroom.

With an eagerness he could not quite comprehend, Anna replaced her hand with lips, and the rest of the world faded away. Bates groaned as a flood of sensation swept over him, the need in his body building like a tide. But he allowed Anna to do as she pleased, at her own pace and whims. Nothing she did could be bad or feel worse than amazing, so he left her over to having her way with him.

He did not reflect on the truth of his past, that Anna had never felt so free exploring him before. They wanted children, and this particular act was not one conducive to such results. Besides, he had not encouraged her to alternatives and the Anna he had known before had not sought out such things as eagerly as this Anna did. Bates suspected that she rather enjoyed the power it gave her over him, the way she could reduce him to wordless desire and yearning so easily.

This morning, she did not take him completely to the edge. Rather, after some minutes she stopped and, discarding her own chemise, she poised her body above his. Every time they connected in that way left Bates astonished. While the feeling had grown familiar, it would never be old.

Her eyes fluttered closed as she moved against him, and he took the opportunity to drink in the sight of her without restraint. Anna's form was a delight to behold. Her slender, tiny figure showed her ribs and the bumps of her spine along her back. But she also exhibited a wealth of muscles along her slim arms and gently sloping shoulders. Her pert breasts were rounded and perfect. While she had plaited her hair into a braid the night, a night of sleep had left it attractively unkempt.

She moved on top of him with the self-assurance of a woman free with her body and desire, and he took pride in her confidence. Bates watched her and touched her breasts and hips, but he allowed her to do much of the work. The position tended to work better for his lame knee, but he could not hurry matters. Sometimes Anna took him over the edge with her slow and steady movements, quickening them just as he grew close to a finish. Other times, the position left him with such frustration that he repositioned them to give himself more leverage.

On this morning, Anna seemed to lose herself in the feelings their joined bodies produced in her, and Bates was happy to give her such freedom. Even as he felt his body attempt to succumb to their shared pleasure, he fought against it for her sake, wanting to give her as much time as possible. Once again he entertained the reminder that his wife's joy always meant more than his own, in the physical side of their marriage as much as the rest of it.

Thankfully, he was not forced to hold out for long before he felt her inner walls contracting around him, her entire body tensing with pleasure of the utmost intensity. Bates was distracted by his own aching need for release, and the sight of her only added to his urgency. Anna paused for but a moment to recover before she renewed her movements with great energy. As she did so, her eyes opened to meet his heavy lidded gaze.

He encouraged her with mild sighs and groans, but she seemed to know exactly what he needed – speed and depth. She moved with the experience gained through their nights together, using her legs to give her power and a hand on his chest to steady herself. By the time his own climax came, they moved together with deliberate ease and cooperation, intent on a single goal.

And finally, he was gone, lost in a release which was as primal as it was exquisite. She did not stop until he was completely finished, although she slowed to account for his end. At his last sigh, a great exhale of relief and exhaustion, Anna halted her movements and leaned forward to rest against his chest, their bodies still joined.

"I love you," she said simply.

"I love you," he said in return.

They stayed still for a moment as he caught his breath. But an instant later, he felt Anna tense.

She quickly sat up, taking care as she separated from him. She paused for a second on the edge of the bed, as if she might hurry away, but then she stopped. The look of guilt and regret he witnessed on her expression kindled in him a firestorm of worry.

He asked, "What is it?"

Anna shook her head with deliberate casualness. "Nothing."

"It isn't nothing. Please tell me."

But he knew even before she spoke. He could see the reflection of the truth in her eyes as her mouth opened.

"I forgot the cap."

Fear seized him, clenching his heart the same as jumping into a pool of freezing water. In that moment, he utterly despised himself for the freedom he allowed his body in enjoying hers. Their entire morning, as pleasant as it had been moments earlier, was suddenly tainted with vile regret.

"I'm so sorry," Anna went on. "I took it out last night and meant to put it in again... but I forgot."

She looked on the verge of tears, her eyes seeking out his as she silently implored him for forgiveness. He saw her lip begin to quiver as her gaze shifted away from him.

"All will be well," he assured her, pushing aside the fear and anger at himself as he witnessed the depth of her misery.

Turning back to look at him, Anna reflected pure anguish at his gentle words.

"But I know…" she began, and broke off again, too emotional to speak. He waited for her to regain herself, and she continued, "I know how you feel about that. I know how important it is for you that we not… that I not…"

Stopping her with a gentle shushing sound, he moved nearer. Reaching out a hand to touch her face, his fingers caressed her cheek with exquisite softness. Once she had quieted and could meet his eyes, he told her with absolute certainty, "You are all I care about, Anna. Please don't upset yourself so."

She sniffed but did not look reassured. Instead, she stated, "I don't want you to think I forgot on purpose-"

"I don't think that."

"-as though I was trying to deliberately thwart your wishes. I would never do that."

Bates paused, taking in not only her statement but that she obviously felt she had to make it known. "I wouldn't ever think that."

Anna's lip was still trembling, and he knew she was not finished speaking.

"Because I do want to have your children," she said softly, "but not if it is something you don't want."

The phrasing hurt more than he could have imagined, and that the words were spoken in her voice finished him off. Anna thought he did not _want_ to have children with her. She had taken his precautions against pregnancy as a personal preference rather than the heart-wrenching decision on his part that it had been. He could only conclude that she did not truly believe him about what had occurred in his past and their potential future. Not that he could blame her. But that she'd entered their marriage from such a fragile vantage point…

Sighing, he said slowly, "I have wanted children with you from the beginning, Anna. I can think of no other sight that would give me greater pleasure than to see you holding a baby in your arms. It was a wish of mine for so long that I cannot even recall when it began. But…"

It had gotten a little easier over the years, thinking about the events of that night, but not much. Bates had long ago accepted that his chest would always ache and his eyes would tear up at the thought of her, in so much pain... Deliberately, he pushed it all aside to focus on his wife.

"…but it was not meant to be. Not for us, at least," he choked out. "Perhaps if I had accepted that so long ago..."

Unable to meet her gaze, he looked down. But Anna did not move away from him. Instead, she softened at his upset state, blinking back her own tears.

"We've never really talked about it," she stated quietly, her tone barely above a whisper. "And I think you feel I don't believe you, what you told me before."

He tried not to sound sardonic. "About traveling back in time?"

"Yes."

"Why should you believe me? It is an unbelievable story."

Frowning, Anna said, "Unbelievable, yes, but as you are the one telling it, I must believe. I wouldn't be here if I didn't trust you."

He returned his eyes to hers, and he could see that she was sincere.

"Perhaps I'm mad," Bates put forth. He had often wondered that of himself and decided that it was not an altogether impossible notion.

But she shook her head, slowly at first and then with greater vehemence. "You aren't mad. I know you believe what you've told me. Sincerely. And I know it would cause you great turmoil if I became with child. That isn't worth it to me, to purposely put you through that, especially when you tell me of what the risks may be."

He thought of what he'd never told her, of how he'd ended his own life. Attempted to end it, as obviously he had failed. It was almost like a moment from a long forgotten dream, and he could turn it out of his thoughts far more easily than he could the memory of her death. Bates knew that was one detail of his life before that he would never share, not under any enticement. Anna did not need to know of his actions as they would bring her only unnecessary heartache.

"I would never knowingly risk your safety," he told her. "Not for any reason."

She looked away as though chastened. "But you'll forgive me for my mistake?" she asked.

Truthfully, he was terrified. But given how long they had tried for children before and how difficult it had been, the odds were at least in their favor that this one time she would not have gotten with child. He hoped.

With an answering smile he had to feign for her sake, Bates said, "Anna, I would forgive you anything. But I'm afraid you've married a brooder. And brooders brood."

Smirking, she allowed, "Well, you may brood later, Mister Bates. As it is, we must be getting on. We're probably already too late for breakfast this morning."

* * *

TBC


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter and let me know they were still reading this old story. I look forward to your feedback going forward. This chapter is also rated M.**

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Anna's lapse with the cap did worry him, more than he let on. He managed to keep blind panic from reflecting in his initial reaction, but inside the safe confines of his own head, he labored under a veritable mountain of fear. Fear that Anna would become with child due to his carelessness. Fear that he would lose her again in the same way he had before. Fear that he would once more be left standing in a graveyard with rain beating down on him as he watched everything he cared about lowered into the ground.

Admitting none of this to Anna lest he pass on his worries to his innocent wife, Bates did not truly draw breath again until she informed him a week later that her cycle had begun. It was easily one of the longest weeks of his life. But upon receiving the news, relief flooded through him like a drug, bringing with it sweet euphoria like he had never known. It was such a contrast to all those months in his past when she had informed him of her courses. Back then, such tidings brought such disappointment and sadness to them both.

There would be no child. He need not worry for her safety, at least not in this. He could breathe again.

While the scare cooled his ardor for passion in their new marriage, it did not have the same effect on his wife. Anna flirted with him confidently now that they were married, and he enjoyed seeing the light within her shine out so brightly.

They were the model of professionalism at the Abbey. But Anna often found an opportunity to catch a spare moment with her husband upstairs after changing their employers for bed or mid-afternoon when there was a lull in activities. They did not kiss often, not in front of others, but she did not hesitate to reach out a hand to touch him. Her fingers might catch his own, or the sleeve of his coat, or even a gentle caress of his cheek. The most subtle of contact brought a smile to his face.

At the cottage, she was more open with her physical affection, but their innocent encounters during the work day were a special gift. Even innocent touches were a silent reminder of her devotion and love. Once the concern about her lapse with the cap had resolved itself, the only thing which seemed to worry her was the uncertain financial future of their employers.

"It seems Mrs. Levinson won't be helping after all. What do you think they will do?" Anna asked him.

She knew of the money troubles for the estate through Lady Mary, although it was not common knowledge among the rest of the servants. Anna had fretted about them needing to find new occupations if the Granthams were forced to downsize, and Bates tried as he could to put her mind at ease. More and more, things had returned to normal, or as normal as he could remember. Having spent this period of time in prison, he could not compare the day to day events with his memory. But the larger circumstances seemed to be marching the same course as his memory dictated.

"Oh, I'm sure they'll manage somehow," he responded vaguely.

Anna watched him with a shrewd expression for a moment. Finally, she ventured, "You seem utterly unconcerned, Mister Bates. I think you know more than you are saying."

Raising an eyebrow at her, he asked, "And if I did know, are you sure you would want me to share? Sometimes it is better not to know."

He spoke a painful truth with an amused voice, but it stung nevertheless. Knowing the future, or half the future, at any rate, was more curse than blessing. And he would not impart the curse of such knowledge onto Anna unnecessarily.

But rather than follow up her observations with a request that he share with her what he might know, she simply stared at him for several long moments. When she spoke again, it was to say shrewdly, "Mister Matthew accepts the inheritance, doesn't he? You needn't answer, for I can see it in your eyes."

"Can you now?" he asked, this time with genuine mirth. Her self assured stance only highlighted her radiance, and he felt as drawn to her as ever.

Nodding, Anna added, "You are quite transparent, Mister Bates, I'm sorry to inform you."

"No, I never was very good at hiding anything from you," he agreed.

But as the words left his lips, he noticed a subtle change in Anna's good humor. Her smile slipped - only for a moment, but it altered the sparkle he had otherwise seen in her eyes.

"Am I very much like her?" she asked.

Confused, he echoed, "Her?"

"Like... your Anna from before."

A sigh escaped his lips as he took a deep breath and then slowly let it out. "In my mind, I have trouble distinguishing you from her. To me, you are nearly the same person in all respects that matter. At first, I thought of you and her as different and separate, but as time has passed, my mind sorts the memories as simply you and another version of you. Different times and different circumstances."

Pensively, she nodded, taking in his statement. "Is there anything that I don't do?" she asked. "Or anything I do that I shouldn't?"

The sudden unease she displayed was at war with her earlier assertiveness, and it pained Bates to think he caused her to doubt herself. Without hesitation, he stated, "You are utterly perfect in every way."

He knew there had to be a specific color to describe the hue of her cheeks as she flushed from the compliment, but he could not name it. Her lips pressed together as she fought to contain a pleased smile.

"No one is perfect," she chided him without sternness.

"Perhaps not," he agreed, "but you are the closest I have ever known."

Her fight was over as she gave herself up to an innocent, full grin. "Then we are a matched pair," Anna said, "as I feel the same about you, Mister Bates."

* * *

Reassured that their mistake in forgetting the cap would not result in Anna becoming with child, Bates was able to focus his attention once more on the events occurring around him, large and small. The fear of having to leave Downton was pervasive upstairs, but the servants had troubles of their own.

It was obvious that Mrs. Hughes did not confide her personal concerns in Anna, but Bates had long suspected that Mrs. Patmore served as the woman's confidant. This notion was confirmed one afternoon when he spied the pair of them leaving the hospital in the village as he walked to the post office. Neither seemed very happy, and Mrs. Hughes in particular looked very worried.

"Good morning," he greeted them, touching the brim of his hat.

"Oh, Mister Bates, you snuck up on us," the cook said with surprise and a note of false cheer.

She glanced back at the hospital nervously, very conscious that he had observed where they were leaving. Mrs. Hughes could not meet his eyes.

He paused, assuming an expression he hoped would silently confer his offer of discretion. "I did not mean to intrude. I should let you get on with your shopping."

While it was quite clear that neither woman had done any shopping or were about such an errand, Mrs. Hughes lifted her gaze and afforded him a meek nod. "Thank you, Mister Bates."

He left the women to their return trip to the house and went about his own errands, all the while wondering what had taken Mrs. Hughes to visit the doctor. She seemed worried, almost as much as he'd ever seen her, and it did not help that Bates held little knowledge of this time period at Downton. Frustratingly, his memories from before extended only to the monotony of prison life. His Anna from before must not have noticed anything amiss. Or if she had, she deliberately chose not to share it with him.

After deliberating on the subject the rest of the day, Bates decided not to mention seeing the two women to his wife when they returned home to the cottage. Doing so felt like a violation of the housekeeper's privacy and like breaking the silent promise he had made to them on the street. Besides, it was likely nothing. Nothing in his memory reflected a health concern for the housekeeper.

But try as he did to put it out of his mind, Bates did wonder and worry about Mrs. Hughes. She wasn't like a mother to him or to Anna, not quite, but he still valued her as a friend and confidant. They had shared much during his first lifetime at Downton, from the time she'd confronted him about the limp corrector to when she had divulged to him - quite unwillingly - what had been done to Anna by Mr. Green. He felt a special kinship with her.

Bates was so distracted by his thoughts that he did not notice the bright looks his wife gave him as they walked home, nor did he recognize the peculiar way she batted her eyelashes as she waited for him to open the cottage door. And if she leaned a little closer than was strictly necessary as she handed him a cup of tea, it did not occur to him that the movement might have some additional meaning.

"What has you so occupied, Mister Bates?" Anna asked him finally, the amusement in her voice breaking him from his reverie.

"I'm sorry," he told her. "It seems I'm not much company tonight."

"Are you worrying once more about something you cannot control?"

The astute question brought him up short.

He admitted, "I suppose that I am."

Anna moved closer to him, but instead of some overt measure of affection, she simply reached for his left hand.

"Then perhaps we should focus on something you can control," she said suggestively, giving him a gentle tug.

"Anna..." he began, not certain if he had the energy for a night of lovemaking. But looking up into his wife's face, he saw such longing and love reflected back from her that he knew he could refuse no request she made of him.

"I put it in this morning, just in case," she said, referring to the cap. "But if you are too tired..."

"I am never too tired to spend time with my beautiful bride," Bates responded easily.

Stepping forward, he kissed her on the forehead - gentle and slow. Then he pressed his lips to her cheek and finally to her mouth. He leaned against his cane for balance but brought his free hand up along the edge of her arm, following the gentle slope of her shoulder until he reached her bare neck and the spot where the slope of her jaw reached just below her ear.

His lips replaced his fingers and he place his next kiss in exactly that spot, and Anna let out a raspy breath.

The feel of her skin and her delighted reaction to his touch reinvigorated him. He suggested, "Perhaps we should go into the bedroom, Mrs. Bates?"

She nodded mutely as he hummed the question below her ear, and then he kissed her there again, letting his mouth slip open so he could taste her skin. Anna shivered in response, and he felt her body begin to relax and go limp against him.

Moving away from her, Bates smiled as he reached for her hand once more and they made their way to the bedroom in the back of the small cottage. The journey allowed Anna to recover herself, and she once again took charge of the endeavor.

Their clothes were shed carefully, neither in such a hurry as to crease fabric needlessly. Having been married for so many months, Anna hardly blushed at all as she removed her undergarments under his gaze. He should have given her privacy, but he could not look away from her in such moments. As captivating as he found Anna, her body was like a work of art to him - perfect proportions and skin which glowed in the lamplight. He loved everything about her.

She met him at the bed and they kissed slowly, as though resuming an exploration it would take a lifetime to complete. The sensation of her naked form, the sensual feel of her lips and tongue against his, were all he needed to feel the fires in him stoke. He had originally thought for tonight to be focused mainly on her release given his fatigue, but the promise of her was tantalizing.

Then Anna touched him.

She did so lightly, gently, with the timidness of a new wife but the confidence of a thoughtful lover. It was both too much and too little, and his body moved against her as though it had a mind of its own. His need was growing as quickly as his lust for the woman in his arms.

Her hand moved slow but with growing confidence and he inhaled sharply as pleasure mixed with a delightful tension. His own hands went to her breasts, letting them fill his palms as he thought about how lovely she looked in the nude. All day she wore long dresses which covered up such a lovely figure, one for his eyes and his touch alone. Somehow, that knowledge only increased his desire for her.

"I love you," he whispered as he moved closer to her, needing more than hands connecting them.

"I love... you," Anna whimpered in return as his mouth descended to her chest.

Once he had his fill, once his unmistakable need could no longer be ignored, he joined himself with her. She moaned as he did so, pushing herself to meet him with enthusiasm.

As they moved together, Bates could ignore the fatigue of his muscles and the way his old bones creaked with abuse. For a time, the pain in his knee was but a dull buzz in the back of his mind. He would remember it later, once the fervor of their lovemaking had passed. But for that moment, all that mattered was the feel of her, of them together. Her eyes closed to slits as she focused on her own bodily sensations.

Her pleasure was what mattered, he reminded himself, attempting to school his mind into nothingness lest he finish too quickly. He wanted Anna to feel release, what he wanted most for any of their encounters. Seeing her face contort in pleasure gave him such delight that little else should matter to him.

He touched her with his hand as they moved, knowing what she needed and when. Anna's body was perhaps the only instrument he had ever learned with any proficiency, and it did not take long for him to bring her to completion.

Her legs tightened around him when she was close, her fingers digging into the flesh at his arms. But her fingernails did not bite into him, no matter how much she lost herself. Bates was not sure if he'd notice if they did.

Anna tightened suddenly, her body going over that invisible edge that he could feel through every fiber of his body. He rode it with her like a boat through rough waters and only when he was clear of her climax did he focus on the burning need for release his body demanded. But with her pleasure assured, he could focus on his own as he moved with her.

Bombs could have gone off outside the cottage and Bates might not have noticed, his focus remained so tight and true. At the same time, a finger of guilt traced his spine and reminded him of the dangerous game he played, being with her. She had said she put in the cap, hadn't she? He should have asked her! What if she forgot? What if it slipped? They had been lucky once already, but what if this time she...?

His body failed him just as release was upon him, making the experience both final and unsatisfying. Anna could tell the difference, and she frowned with concern as he finally stopped, his breath coming in pants as he came to rest, poised above her with his weight on his arms. The position put incredible pressure on his knee, and he was forced to roll away from her, the uncomfortable ache having transformed into a throbbing pain from his abuse of the injured joint.

"John?" she asked, turning to look at him with confusion and worry.

"It wasn't..." he began, and then left off.

He could not explain what had happened, the failure of his body as his mind had taken him out of the moment of their intimacy. At least her chance at becoming with child would be lesser, he was certain, although it was little consolation in the wake of such physical disappointment. His body still buzzed with an edge of traitorous need that he despised, although it was nearly drowned out by exhaustion.

Anna looked at him with innocent eyes, and he knew she must be doubting herself.

"It was me," he explained. "I let myself ruin the moment, quite unintentionally, I assure you."

She bit her lip before asking, "Did you... were you concerned that I'd forgotten the cap again?"

"No..." he began, but she looked unconvinced. "Anna-"

"Because I didn't," she said earnestly. "I remembered. I wouldn't have suggested it otherwise-"

"Anna," he said again before sighing deeply. "You were perfect. Everything about you is perfect. But I'm afraid you've married a brooder. And brooders brood."

Seeming to accept this explanation, Anna pursed her lips in appreciation for his lackluster finale. "Quite an inconvenient trait for you, Mister Bates," she said, with an element of teasing in her tone.

"Believe me, I know."

* * *

TBC


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: Trying to get back into a routine of posting weekly. Reviews are appreciated if folks are still enjoying this story.**

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He settled back onto the bed and Anna re-positioned herself at his side so that she could put her head on his shoulder. They dozed there together for a time but real sleep seemed to escape him. At some point, the reality of their nakedness intruded into his Victorian sensibilities, and he got up to wash himself and to don appropriate clothes for bed. Anna followed suit not long after, and by midnight they had crawled beneath the covers together.

Fatigue pulled at Bates' eyelids, but the accumulated weight of all his concerns kept sleep at bay even after Anna had extinguished all lights but the candle beside the bed. He lay there silently, waiting for her to fall asleep.

"May I ask you something?" she inquired finally, breaking the silence with a strange note of ethereal detachment in her voice.

He nodded in the low light, and then cleared his throat nervously. "Of course."

"Can you tell me how it happened?"

His brow furrowed. "How what happened?"

"How you... went back in time."

"I-" His throat seized up as her question threw him into his past, into those final days of his life, days which had begun with such anticipation and ended in aching despair.

"You must know by now that I believe you," Anna forged on, not quite understanding his hesitance to speak. "I just want to know how such a thing is possible."

"I don't know," he admitted moments later, as he struggled to grasp his composure. "I really don't. One moment I was... _there_. Then. And the next I woke up _here_. And now. Well, back then."

He'd stammered a bit as he spoke. Anna's eyes were glued to his face, and she must have sensed he was hiding something. Bluntly, she inquired, "Did it have something to do with my death? Her death."

Again, he said, "I don't know." Silence met his answer, and he added, "Perhaps."

"Perhaps?" she repeated the word.

He pressed his lips together, not wishing to lie to her, but having no intentions of revealing the truth. "I really don't understand how it happened, how it could even be possible..."

If he were a religious man, Bates would label it a miracle. But he could no more attribute his experience to divine intervention than he could stop questioning his own sanity. The much more simple explanation was that he had gone utterly mad. Sometimes he even contemplated that notion, that in his grief he had completely conjured this strange renewal of the world he had known.

But when he looked at his wife, when he saw the life in her eyes, Bates knew it was real. Even the most vivid of imaginations could not duplicate the love she showed him every day, the mirror image of before...

His distress over this topic had been rapidly growing, and he could not fight it any longer. Tears appeared in his eyes and he looked away, blinking them back. Anna must not have noticed, else she may not have made the connection so swiftly.

"How long after she died did it happen?"

Bates' voice sounded tight and foreign as he murmured, "The day of the funeral."

His answer surprised her, clearly, but she pressed on.

"Where were you, in bed? Sleeping?" she asked.

He shook his head. "In the bedroom, yes, but..."

Telling her the truth was unthinkable. Bates had never intended to tell anyone about that day, about those last moments that he remembered before finding himself back in prison in 1912. Some nights, he still dreamed about it, about the feel of the rope around his neck and the way he'd rocked the stool out from under his feet. He woke up from such dreams sweating and unable to catch his breath.

"Please tell me," she begged. "I want to know everything."

Her desires warred with his own. She wanted to know precisely what he did not wish her to know, and he was faced with deciding who's will should win out. Had he more time, he might come up with a reasoned argument, some perfect words to encapsulate the truth from understanding while giving her an accurate answer. But she looked up at him with innocent, imploring eyes, clouding his already fatigued mind.

He responded with sad truthfulness, "I don't want you to know everything. I think you'd be disappointed in me, and it would cause you pain even though you had nothing to do with my decisions then."

A pause, a long beat passed as Anna took in his response. But it was not long before she straightened, her entire body going stiff with understanding.

"You mean you..." she began, but the rest of the words escaped her. Her eyes began to blink rapidly, and Bates realized they were filling with tears as he heard the emotions in her next words. "You did _that_... because of her? Because of... me?"

"Anna-"

A dam seemed to break as the moisture on her face flowed freely. "You mean... you tried to kill yourself... because of me?" she persisted.

He had not meant to be so obvious in his answer, but she had clearly worked out for herself what had occurred in those final moments.

"I couldn't live with it," Bates attempted to explain, caught up in his own emotions. "I couldn't live with what I'd done."

"But that's the last thing-"

Before she could say more, he added, "And it wasn't only her... it wasn't only you who died."

The moment the words left his lips, a heavy silence fell over them, oppressive with its sadness and suffering. Years had passed in this strange re-write of his life, and the nightmares since Anna's death had gradually lessened. And during his waking hours, time had distanced the memories, giving them a hazy quality which dulled the edges and made it possible to keep breathing. Having her back at his side helped. But he had never really talked of that night, not with any specificity, to another living soul.

When Anna finally spoke again, she kept her voice low and subdued. "Was it a boy or a girl?"

He swallowed tightly around a knot in his throat, and not for the first time he felt the echoing pressure of that noose around his neck once more.

"A boy," he mustered finally. "But he..." _He'd never drawn breath._

The facade he'd been holding in place suddenly cracked under the pressure of so many years and so many emotions laced tightly into place. His hands went to his face as he wept openly, unable to stop himself. Anna's arms circled around him, and she guided him until he was resting against her, his head cradled gently at her chest as she whispered soft and meaningless words.

"It wasn't your fault," he heard her say again and again, "You were not to blame."

She held him for a very long time, soothing him with her words and warmth until his tears were spent and renewed once more. While Bates had grieved over the death of his wife and child, it was the first he'd truly spoken of them to anyone since his strange change in situation, so the wound still felt raw and new. But Anna's presence kept him anchored into the present as both an inexplicable reminder of what he'd lost and of what he had found once more.

When he'd recovered himself enough to pull away from her, Anna wiped at the moisture around her own pink and puffy eyes. He hated seeing her in turmoil, and it was worse knowing he was the cause of her agony. Sharing what he'd done was a mistake, Bates decided, because she would now carry the burden of that knowledge with her forever. He needed to mitigate his error, to put it in some perspective for her.

"Anna, I was weak," he told her, his hoarse throat turning his voice to gravel. "Ever since we were married, I have not imagined a life without you. I always assumed I would die first. When that didn't happen..." He took a deep breath, trying to fortify. "I know now that I should have been strong enough to honor your memory..."

He tried to go on, to explain the gray existence he had faced that long ago day. But he floundered in his speech amidst a rising sea of emotion, unable to explain further. Anna caught his eyes and held his hand, her touch like a lifeline.

"You know I would never want you to..." she began, shaking her head even as words failed her as well. He put a hand to her cheek, wiping away fresh tears before they could reach her jaw. The touch distracted Anna enough to allow herself some composure. "You are not at fault for what happened, John. There was nothing you could have done. It was a tragedy, but... She would have wanted you to live. _I_ would want you to live."

Bleakly, he asked, "But what had I to live for?"

She closed her eyes at his query, having no answer, and the motion squeezed out fresh tears from the corners sending twin trails down her damp cheeks.

"My God, what you have put yourself through all these years..." she lamented before letting out a shuddering breath. "You torture yourself with guilt, but you are not responsible-"

Her denials were too much for him to hear and impossible to believe. Bates shook his head and withdrew his hand from her. "I _am_ responsible," he insisted roughly. "She carried my child, the child I desperately wanted. After so many years of trying, she would have been happy to take in a foundling and raise it as her own, but I was stubborn..."

Before the old recriminations could crash over him anew, Anna moved both of her hands to his face, cupping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to meet hers. The action succeeded in stilling him for a moment - not just his eyes and body but also his mind. Their gazes locked, and he saw only her.

"John Bates, it was not your fault," she said the words again slowly, trying desperately to impart her belief to him.

She could say them a thousand times, and it would do little to change his mind. But the way she looked at him... She poured her soul into her eyes, and the love he saw there was so strong as to almost begin melting his self recriminations. The sensation frightened him and he struggled to look away, to escape. But she held him fast, and he was helpless to break free, her gentle touch as unbreakable as iron.

"You are blameless," Anna repeated, this time adding, "And she loved you. So much. I know she did because _I_ love you. She loved you and she wanted that child just as much as you did. What happened was no more your fault than it was hers."

"I know," he managed. "I know that, truly, but... I just couldn't live with it."

He took another deep breath, fighting against his lungs to get in enough air. This conversation with Anna had been unexpected and sudden, delving into subjects he'd never dreamed of speaking aloud, least of all with her. Hazy as it had seemed before, speaking of it revived both emotions and memory. It was not a dream, and he was not insane. Everything had happened just as he remembered, and the reality of it stung anew. And now she also knew that he'd attempted to kill himself, knowledge he regretted putting on her-

She knew everything, including the secrets he had never wanted her to share. In a way, it was a weight off of his shoulders, but he feared he had only transferred the burden to her. He sighed deeply, not sure what else to say. "Anna..." he appealed helplessly.

She wrapped her arms back around him again, soothing him as much with her embrace as she could with words. She settled them down on the bed, and he found it easier no longer having to meet her gaze.

"I hate that despair took you to such a place," she whispered. "But I am so glad you're alive. I'm so glad you came to Downton and found me. I don't know what my life would have been without you."

The relief in her voice was genuine, and he felt his body relax in her arms. Perhaps she recognized how difficult it truly had been to tread the same road again. There was no recrimination in her tone, no disgust or intolerance of what he feared she would consider a despicable and cowardly act. Instead, she simply voiced her own gratitude in having his love. In having _him_.

Bates considered for a long time what more he could say to her, how he could explain his actions. For him, this life was one re-lived, a second chance at something he'd never deserved in the first place let alone twice. But for her, each day was novel and new, something she treasured without needing the benefit of hindsight. And clearly she cherished him as much as he did her, as difficult of a concept as it was for him to grasp. Maybe her love absolved him too easily, in this as well as all things, but for once he simply let it be.

Exhaustion had finally caught up with him. He fell asleep with her arms wrapped tightly around him, as though she feared he might vanish from her grasp in the night.

TBC


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: I meant to get this out last week, but alas, life. As always, reviews are very much appreciated.**

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After the confession he had made to her, Bates wondered if his wife would look at him differently. Part of him worried she would see him as a coward for his actions or if she would draw away from him in disgust. But she showed no sign of such feelings. If anything, she went out of her way to reassure him of her regard, smiling at him often and taking the time to reassure him with touches. It was something she had often done after they were wed - rub his arm or squeeze his hand in passing, if they were alone. But after their late night conversation, she did it much more frequently, as though to reassure herself that he was still there.

In some ways, he wondered if she treated him _too_ gently now. He did not want that, either. But try as he might to discern whether she was treading more lightly than she would have in the past, he saw only his wife treating him as her husband. A week had passed since he had told her what precipitated his trip back in time, and neither had spoken of it again.

While her eyes were often still full of questions, she kept them to herself. Perhaps there was more to be said, more Anna wished to know or impart. But not now. Not yet.

Their intimate life had slowed down as well, and Bates preferred to think that it was the work at the house leaving them increasingly tired rather than any hesitance on Anna's part. But in some respects, Bates did not mind the break. As much as he enjoyed their physical relationship, he could feel age catching up with his body once again. He had not the stamina he'd boasted as a young man, and privately he lamented that such years had been wasted in his marriage to Vera. Had he known Anna then, he could have exhausted her as easily as she did him now.

Pushing aside such regrets, Bates tried to focus on the happiness of the life they'd built together. In a way, the fact that Anna knew about his secret was a weight lifted off his shoulders. Other worries intruded on his thoughts, but he did his best to push them aside.

"Would you read to me tonight?" Anna asked him one evening at the cottage.

It was a rare request as she knew he did not enjoy reading aloud, but listening to him freed up her eyes and hands to do mending or sewing. She had an old dress from Lady Mary which she wished to alter for herself in time for Sunday services.

Knowing there could be no other response, he told her with an indulgent smile, "Of course."

Rather than start a novel, Anna selected a volume of poetry for him. She had once confessed to him that the words and the cadence of his voice mattered more to her than what those words actually conveyed. He also suspected that she did not want him to interrupt his own novel for a new one, the sort of consideration for another only Anna could have. Bates settled into his chair to read aloud and Anna took her place on the couch opposite.

Losing himself in the ebb and flow of ideas and imagery, of words and thoughts and the feelings each line provoked, Bates read aloud to her. Anna worked on her alterations, occasionally pausing to look up at him when a passage particularly moved her.

She was a beautiful woman, his Anna. There was no denying it. But the way she looked at him... Not even the most skillful poet could put into words how she made him feel, when she looked at him that way. Only she could take him out of himself, banishing the darkness into the corners of their lives for a while as she filled his thoughts with hopes and dreams for the future. He was foolish to think she would see him differently, despite what he had confessed about his past.

For a time, nothing else in the world mattered but the two of them, together.

* * *

Good news traveled quickly, so Bates had heard about Mr. Crawley's decision to use the inheritance from Mr. Swire to save Downton even before Lord Grantham could give him the news. To what extent the other servants knew the estate had been in trouble, Bates could not have said, but they certainly all knew that they no longer needed to worry if indeed they had ever realized there was cause for alarm.

"He'll be co-owner of the estate," his Lordship explained matter-of-factly to his valet, apparently pleased at the development. "Which only seems like a fair resolution to the ugly mess. And when I die, he'll inherit everything anyway."

Bates simply nodded, not unprepared for this turn of events. While it seemed that the younger man had taken an inordinately long time to make his decision, at least it had still been made towards the greater good and in line with the prior timeline.

But something pricked at the back of his conscience as he thought of young Matthew Crawley. He could not help but remember the description of his grizzly death, crushed beneath his own car on the day his son was born. Surely that fate could be avoided? So much had already changed from the previous time that Bates could not imagine such a freak accident occurring twice. But parts of the future were still going along quite as they had before.

"Then he'll be involved in running the estate?" Bates asked, showing the sort of perfunctory but knowledgeable interest in the subject that befit a servant. He spent so much time dressing and undressing Lord Grantham that their conversations flowed naturally and without much need for guile or subterfuge.

"He's already involved in running the estate," the Earl said, his tone abruptly different. He did not sound offended - not quite. But there was an edge to his answer which betrayed some lingering doubts even his Lordship might not yet recognize.

"Of course, milord."

Bates was quiet for a time, allowing his silence to speak the volumes he could not put into words. But in the gap of conversation, he watched Lord Grantham thinking, his mind turning over the suggestion. Finally, the Earl said, "I suppose you mean he might want to change things."

"Perhaps," Bates confirmed casually. "Young men are full of young men's ideas."

"Which are not always better," the Earl was quick to point out.

"Of course." He paused. "But they are not always worse, either."

The ritual of dressing was completed, and his Lordship turned around to face his valet. With a cock of the head, he stated, "That is something to consider. But Mister Crawley has worked with me for years. I can't imagine him wanting to deviate from tradition."

Bates smiled to himself and agreed, "As you say, milord."

While Lord Grantham might have argued, he let the answer pass. Instead, he straightened and said stiffly, "There is something else I would ask you about, Bates."

The tone he used and the considered look the Earl gave him immediately caused some alarm.

"Milord?"

The Earl frowned before imparting, "It seems that Molesley has not kept his concerns about Thomas' injury to himself, as we had both hoped he would. Instead, he's been voicing his suspicions to Mister Crawley, bringing it up more and more."

Bates nodded his head slowly in understanding.

"Have you spoken with Mister Molesley yourself?" the valet asked.

"Not yet, but Mister Crawley is growing concerned with the matter, particularly the unfounded nature of the allegations. From what I have heard, Molesley has no proof, only conjecture, and we cannot condemn a man for something which very well may have been bad luck."

The other man fell silent, but his eyes stayed on Bates. It took a moment for the valet to realize there was an unspoken request there, a need for more information without actually asking him to provide it.

"I'm not sure how much help I can be with this, milord," Bates offered. "I am the last person Thomas would ever confide in."

"That may be so. But perhaps you could speak with Molesley, see if there is really anything to this or if it is just a bit of bad blood between the two of them."

"Of course."

He accepted the assignment without complaint, but Bates dreaded the ordeal. Finally in uncharted waters of a present he had never lived before, he had no idea in which direction to navigate. And the fate of a man he hated was on the line, which seemed to make his responsibility to find a fair answer that much greater.

Bates had no love for Thomas, not after everything he had already done and would likely do again if given half a chance. In some ways, it would be easy to throw the footman to the wolves, especially if he had indeed injured himself to get out of the fighting. But Bates still resisted any action which might end the livelihood of another servant.

He sighed to himself before making the journey downstairs.

* * *

In the way of the world, bad news always seemed to follow good, putting everything into perspective. The next day, Anna informed him of a development which truly surprised him, something difficult to do these days.

"Mrs. Hughes needs me to take over for a few weeks," she said with a deliberate air of casualness. "I'll still look after Lady Mary, but she asked me to keep an eye on the household and supervise the younger maids."

"Where is she going?" he asked.

Here, Anna hesitated. He could sense that her reserve was due to a confidence, whether real or implied, but in his curiosity, he left the question open for her.

"She... has to have a surgery."

Bates racked his memory for any mention of a surgery involving Mrs. Hughes while he was in prison, but he could think of nothing.

"What sort of surgery?"

Anna again seemed reticent to supply more information. With great reluctance she said, "It is... of a private nature. She only shared it with me so I would fill in for her while she was gone. And in case..."

She trailed off, and it took Bates a moment to realize why.

In case Mrs. Hughes _didn't_ return to Downton. That is what Anna had almost revealed.

This turn of events startled him immensely as he had not seen it coming, not at all. Mrs. Hughes had always seemed a picture of good health, and there had been no indication in his past life that she'd ever had such a medical procedure. He could not fathom what had changed to make it necessary now.

"Will she go to the hospital here?"

"London," Anna said quietly, the statement another confirmation of exactly how serious the matter was. Reading his distress, she put on a brave face and said, "I'm certain she will be fine."

While he would never call his wife a liar, he knew she did not believe what she said. And suddenly, he could see hidden in her face a tremendous fear for the housekeeper. Whatever surgery the woman was having, it was neither routine nor superficial.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked.

Anna shook her head. "I told her I'd pray for her."

As quickly as the news of Mr. Crawley's inheritance had swept through the lower floor of Downton, the bombshell of Mrs. Hughes' mystery surgery moved even faster. The footmen speculated among themselves with the callousness of young men who were not particularly attached to the person in question. Bates overheard Jimmy make an astute observation.

"It's most likely cancer. She is a woman of a certain age."

Alfred seemed uncomfortable with the discussion. "She's not that old."

"She's old enough. I've heard of it before. They have to cut... well, _everything_ off, to be sure they get it all."

"Cut what off?" Alfred asked, not understanding.

Jimmy leaned forward, as if to tell him in a more hushed tone, but then the footman spotted Bates listening to their conversation.

"I didn't see you there, Mister Bates," he said, a little too loudly as he straightened.

"Clearly not."

The valet glanced down the corridor and spied Mr. Carson approaching. The butler looked devastated. Whatever details Mrs. Hughes had shared with Anna, she had obviously been more forthcoming with Mr. Carson.

Bates warned, "But you might want to keep your speculation to yourselves. Especially in the servants' hall."

The reproach was enough for Alfred, who gladly fled the discussion. But Jimmy paused for a moment to stare at Bates before heading off. For a moment, the young man reminded him of Franklin. While he had not heard anything from Franklin in months, just the thought of him turned his thoughts to Vera, which was like a metaphorical bucket of water over his head. He quickly pushed her from his mind lest the old adage about speaking the devil's name come true.

"I suppose you've heard," the butler said softly as he drew closer, "about Mrs. Hughes."

"Only that she'll be leaving us for a while," Bates affirmed. Carson simply nodded, looking for all the world like a lost little boy. He offered gently, "I'm sure she'll be back in no time."

The butler seemed genuinely shaken by the surgery Mrs. Hughes was to undergo, and Bates wondered how something could have changed for her so dramatically in this life from his past. He had gathered much from the footmen's conversation about exactly what sort of procedure Mrs. Hughes was to undergo. While he knew none of the particulars, he did know that any such surgery came with an immense risk of infection. And if it truly was as invasive as Jimmy had stated, the housekeeper would never be the same, physically or emotionally. Bates knew that all too well.

"From your lips to God's ear," Carson uttered in anguish.

Bates watched as the butler stared into space for a moment before looking up, squaring his shoulders, and carrying on about his duties.

TBC


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I have no good excuse for such delay in updating this story beyond being very busy in real life. Reviews are a huge motivation to keep writing, so I very much appreciate them.**

* * *

With Mrs. Hughes gone, Carson managed to finagle the hiring of a new kitchen maid to help Mrs. Patmore. Bates smiled the first time he noticed Ivy's familiar form crowding the downstairs kitchen with Daisy and the cook. She looked new and eager the way Alfred had done on his arrival, and Bates took a moment to enjoy the fact that he could witness such events in person this time rather than reading Anna's description in her letters.

In some ways, he did miss the letters. But having time to themselves was an unparalleled blessing he was reminded of every day. And with so many happenings at the house, Bates enjoyed escaping with Anna to their cottage in the evenings. Their shelter away from prying eyes and loose lips full of gossip allowed him to relax and rest his weary body. At the same time, the quiet let him think, and his mind all too often led him to worry about things which for any other person would be impossible to change.

The weight of so many futures seemed to rest on his shoulders.

He especially thought of Sybil Branson and Matthew Crawley, of how early both of their lives had been snuffed out by cruel twists of fate. But Mrs. Hughes' sudden surgery also worried him, just as he was concerned over the dark shadows still visible behind Mr. Molesley's eyes sometimes. The man had never looked so unrecognizable to him.

And of course, he still worried about Anna. Her slip with the cap had nearly pulled the rug out from under him, leaving everything in limbo until it was confirmed that she was not with child. And while she had been adamant about her responsibility with it ever since, a nervous voice still whispered to him in the back of his mind.

Of course, that voice was more difficult to hear when Anna chatted to him beside the fire in their sitting room, her face lit up from within. During the day he could do little to distract himself from concerns about their life together, but when they were together in such quiet, intimate moments, he reveled in the warmth of their marriage. Knowing as he did how easily it could all be lost, Bates frequently forced himself to stop in his worrying for the future and to enjoy the present for a time.

On this particular evening, Anna was full of the latest news from the house. She also had more news from Gwen.

"She and William have been exchanging letters with great regularity the past few months. She thinks he may be ready to attempt a visit again."

Bates nodded slowly, appreciating the care the former housemaid had gone to in approaching William, but also understanding his reluctance to meet with those from his old life.

"Will you go with her?"

Anna shook her head. "She didn't ask me to go with her. Perhaps it would be too much for William to see the two of us at once. But she did say that he's healed enough to help his father at the farm. So he isn't cooped up all day. He just doesn't go into the village or see anyone because... Well, you know."

Bates did know, at least on some level. While he could not fathom everything the former footman had gone through, he did understand what it meant to be wounded in battle and lose his old life. But William had suffered an even crueler fate in the disfigurement of his face. For a sensitive lad like the former footman, it probably seemed like the end of his very existence.

"Why does Gwen wish to see him so badly?" he asked, growing concerned that William would be hurt worse by such a visit. If an old friend were to show disgust or revulsion at the sight of him, it would undo whatever progress the young man had made in coming to grips with his injuries.

Shrugging a shoulder, Anna answered, "I don't know. They were friends, once. She cares about him."

"And what of Daisy?"

He had observed the kitchen maid a little over the past few months, having noticed nothing out of the ordinary about the young woman. But as he considered what observations still stuck in his memory, Bates thought that perhaps she seemed sad and more lonely than when she and William were engaged during the war. According to Mrs. Hughes, it had been William who broke things off with Daisy after he was injured. Daisy had wished to go through with their marriage, but the former footman flatly refused.

Now, Gwen was going to visit him at his father's farm, something Daisy had not done. Bates recognized that perhaps Daisy did not have the same gumption to pursue William as the former housemaid apparently exhibited, but he did wonder if she still loved the man.

While he could think of worse things for someone than having to decide between the attentions of two lovely young women, Bates also worried that both Gwen and Daisy might be over romanticizing William's injuries. It was quite one thing to read about such relationships in novels and quite another to actually live with and care for a crippled man. Even when the body was done knitting itself back together, some wounds ran too deep to ever fully heal.

"Daisy hasn't gone to see him," Anna said carefully. He could read in her tone that she also felt anxious about the kitchen maid's feelings, but he also sensed that she favored Gwen's position in the matter. "I asked her not long ago if she had any plans to go, and she sounded... indifferent. I don't know, maybe she lost interest after Mister Carson hired Alfred as the new footman."

Anna's comment was spoken in frustration with the assistant cook, but Bates could see the hurt in his wife's eyes as she considered William's feelings. He had never told her of what the man's fate had been before, nor had he mentioned Daisy marrying William on his deathbed and her subsequent regret of the act. Perhaps that story was best left in his past life where it belonged.

"And now they've hired another footman," Anna went on with a sigh.

"What do you think of James Kent?" he asked, not bothering to hide the mirth in his voice, remembering the state of the servants' hall when the young man had arrived to interview with Mr. Carson a fortnight prior. All of the female servants - and Thomas - had seemed to appreciate his good looks, although Anna had the good grace not to stare.

"He'll do all right," she allowed, "although he is awfully full of himself. And I hope he doesn't make trouble with the new kitchen maid. I saw him eyeing her this morning."

They spent a few moments discussing the relative merits of having an extra footman in general before falling asleep. That night, Bates dreamed of pre-war Downton, teaming with servants in white gloves leading an endless parade while carrying silver-filled tea trays. They all had the same faces, men who had come or gone or stayed at the house seemingly forever. Among them was William Mason, his face half covered with a mask. Behind him walked Thomas, straight backed, his left hand covered by a flesh-colored glove rather than the usual white to go with his livery. Then came Molesley, staring daggers into the back of Thomas' skull, followed by Alfred and finally Jimmy.

As they tend to do, the dream changed and morphed from one odd image to another. Before long, Tom Branson had made an appearance at the servants' hall table, and beside him sat Lady Sybil nearly bursting with child. She looked quite lovely in a way Bates had never actually seen, and in the dream, she turned to Anna, belly still large and swollen beneath her lady's maid's dress.

Bates woke with a start, his heart pounding so fast that he thought it might burst forth from his chest onto the bedsheets. He quickly glanced to his side to confirm Anna was still asleep. Taking several moments to compose himself, he rested his head back on his pillow and closed his eyes.

But sleep did not come and he lay awake until morning worrying about the future.

* * *

His chance to speak with Molesley came the next morning as the family slept in later than usual. Tom Branson had arrived the evening before from Ireland, and Bates suspected that Lord and Lady Grantham had stayed up into the night discussing the situation.

Rumors were already swirling downstairs about the youngest Crawley daughter's husband showing up at the house like a refugee, without his pregnant wife in tow. There was talk of Mr. Branson having committed criminal acts in Ireland and fleeing the authorities. But amid the commotion, Molesley moved very quietly and deliberately, watching and listening to the others but offering no opinions of his own.

He seemed a much different man than he had been before, Bates decided. Whereas in a prior life Molesley would have been eager to get in his two cents and sound as authoritative about matters as anyone below stairs, now he held back, secure in his silence.

It was rather unexpected when the valet chose to address Bates in the corridor after breakfast. They stood to one side, waiting for the bells to ring in the servant's hall.

"Do you think something has truly happened to Lady Sybil?" he queried, for a moment sounding like the old Molesley Bates had known before.

"I'm sure she's well and on her way to Downton." He spoke with more authority than he probably ought to, seeing as how he had no idea if Lady Sybil would be as unharmed in her travels as she was before. His own memories of this time period were dim, glossed over by Anna in broad strokes among the pile of letters he had received from her when his mail was finally allowed to go through at the prison again.

"Hope you're right." Molesley paused. "There might be a lynching if she isn't."

The darkness in the man's voice was troubling to Bates, but before he could answer, Thomas strode past the two men. The footman glared openly at Molesley, who stared back at him, hard.

"You've made quite an enemy of Thomas," he observed, mentally noting the irony that he would make such a comment about someone else. "I thought he only hated me so much."

"Thomas is afraid I'll tell Mister Crawley that he's a coward."

Bates said nothing for a moment, waiting for more. The silence stretched on, and eventually he was rewarded.

"You don't think I should."

There was disappointment in the other man's tone, as though Molesley had hoped Bates would be on his side.

"What proof have you to accuse anyone?" he asked pointedly.

The line of the other valet's jaw became more defined as he looked away, obviously annoyed at being challenged. "How much proof is necessary? Everyone knows Thomas, the sort of man he is. His injury already looks suspicious. I saw countless men actually blown apart, and he gets sent home with a hole in his hand because the Germans saw him smoking?" He shook his head. "That isn't right, and you know it as well as I do."

Before Bates could respond, Molesley was speaking again, his voice growing louder and louder.

"And after the things I saw, the men I saw die - good men, Mister Bates, men you'd have been proud to serve with... I don't see why Thomas should strut around here with that glove on his hand like some famed war hero. Not when so many others should have come home instead of him."

A bell rang. Bates glanced over - it was Lord Grantham's dressing room and he was finally needed.

Taking a deep breath, he offered one final statement before heading upstairs. "Unfairness is an intrinsic trait of any war, Mister Molesley. I certainly have no love for Thomas, but you should take care in your accusations."

* * *

Lord Grantham's ire at his Irish son-in-law was understandable, and luckily it lasted only a short time until Lady Sybil arrived at the house unharmed. Her appearance seemed to put everyone at ease except for Bates. While the Earl spent his time concerned with how to keep his daughter and her husband safe from any sort of prosecution due to events in Ireland, Bates could not help but be reminded of the very real issue of Sybil's impending motherhood.

She would be giving birth soon, within a matter of weeks, most likely. No longer could the situation be avoided.

Unfortunately, he was as mired in doubt and distress as he ever had been when faced with this issue, knowing what he did of the past. He strained his memory for the scant details Anna had given him regarding Sybil's death in her letters to him in prison. He knew she delivered the baby safely before taking a turn for the worse. As well, Anna had disclosed what she'd heard spoken of Lady Grantham's blame of her husband for not following Dr. Clarkson's advice over that of a visiting specialist with a knighthood and Harley Street practice.

He knew little more on the matter except that Lady Sybil had died tragically, plunging the family and household into grief. Bates shied away from imagining those moments as they left his own emotions far too raw and painful to face. He could not think of Anna, not now, not in this. But it was impossible for those memories not to surface, shaking him to his core.

Needing to see her, he waited in the corridor of the family wing for her to be done with Lady Mary rather than going down to the servants' hall. The moments of solitude gave him time to compose himself, at least somewhat.

Anna smiled as she spied him lurking outside the stairwell door, Lord Grantham's clothes draped over his left arm. He silently held open the door for her, and she only spoke when they were both on their way down the steps.

"If I'd known you were waiting, I'd have tried to hurry her along," she said.

"No need. I only wanted to see you."

He kept his tone light, as light as he could, but Anna had an almost mystical ability to read his moods. She stopped on a landing to look at him quizzically.

"Is something the matter?"

"Of course not."

They both knew it was a lie.

"Will you tell me later?" she requested.

"Perhaps," he sighed before asking, "How is Lady Sybil?"

"Weary from traveling but she seems well," Anna answered. "They're still discussing matters, but it sounds as though they won't be able to return to Ireland. At least not for a while."

Bates nodded absently at this news, distracted by the other issues clouding his head. He needed to figure out what if anything he could do about Lady Sybil. On top of that, he worried about Mrs. Hughes' surgery in London and the assignment Lord Grantham had given him as far as Mr. Molesley's vendetta against Thomas.

Quite suddenly, he felt a strange pain in his arm. He stopped on the stairs, his hand gripping the railing weakly as he took stock of the odd sensation. His head swam uncomfortably as nausea overtook him for several long moments. Everything around him seemed to lose focus, but he did not realize it until he looked up to see Anna addressing him with obvious alarm.

"Are you all right?"

She sounded as though she spoke to him from a great distance, and he blinked in confusion at her. Then, just as swiftly, the feelings of illness began to dissipate. His hearing snapped back into place just as the dizziness left him, and he forced a smile.

"I'm fine," he assured her, even though he felt no such confidence in the answer. It would do no good to worry his wife. "Feeling a bit tired."

That, at least, was a truthful answer.

Anna frowned at him, her concern still obvious.

"You worry too much."

He smiled at that, wondering suddenly if he ever did anything _but_ worry. Perhaps his brooding had brought on the strange feeling of sickness he had just experienced. He knew that he should tell her about it, but at the same time, he did not want to cause his wife undue concern. Putting on a brave face, Bates said, "You know me too well."

Anna studied him for a long moment before seeming to accept his answer, and Bates followed her down the rest of the way to the servant's hall.

TBC


End file.
